


Tenebrity

by whufflepuff



Series: Twilight, Reimagined [1]
Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14589636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whufflepuff/pseuds/whufflepuff
Summary: Twilight had some great ideas, but the execution wasn't always the best. What would the series look like with a little reimagining and some careful attention to detail? Chapter Twelve: "Somehow, as irrational as it probably was, that comment humanized him even more than saying that he hoped to be good. I stopped seeing him as a maybe-monstrous Adonis and saw him as a teenager whose life had been changed beyond recognition by forces outside of his control."





	1. Moving Day

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Twilight when I was younger, but felt a little disillusioned when the series didn't age as well as I did. So I thought: what if I could keep the parts I liked and improve the parts I didn't? This is the result.

I was regretting my decision to leave Phoenix.

Out of all the places where I had lived over the course of seventeen years, Phoenix was by far my favorite. I liked it much better than Minneapolis or Atlanta or Tampa or even Houston, although that might have had something to do with the fact that Renee – my mother – and I had lived there for three years, six months longer than we had stayed in any other place.

I leaned my head against the car window, watching the familiar scenery – desert and development intertwined – flash by for the last time. I was going to miss the vivid colors, the bustle of the city, and the heat (well, okay, I might be able to survive without the constant risk of sunburn). The weather that day was absolutely perfect, with the thermometer on the dash of Phil's new car reading seventy-five and the sky a bright blue. I had routinely slathered myself with sunblock before stepping outside, of course (probably for the last time in a while, if the average cloud cover of my destination was anything to judge by), so I wasn't too worried about the relentless sunshine.

"Bella?"

With a start, I realized that Renee had been trying to get my attention and I had been too busy thinking about the weather to notice. Stifling a pang of guilt, I turned my head towards my mother and smiled. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you packed everything? Your toothbrush, your sketchbook, your schoolbooks…" My mother trailed off, smiling a little anxiously in my direction. "I'm just afraid that you'll have forgotten something important and I'll be out of town."

I tried to look reassuring. "Everything really important was shipped ahead, remember? My schoolbooks and the rest of my library are waiting in Forks."

I'd dealt with all the details of my relocation, with a little help from my mother's new husband, Phil. Between the two of us, we'd seen to my withdrawal from my high school in Phoenix, enrollment in the only high school in Forks, Washington, and the shipping of all of my important possessions. I had quit my cashiering job with some regret at leaving the bookstore and the owner who had always been kind to me. I'd also spent half of my savings on a new winter wardrobe, since I hadn't owned a winter coat since I was eleven. The rest was firmly reserved for getting a car as soon as possible, since walking everywhere in cold rain didn't seem like a pleasant idea, and I didn't want to inconvenience Charlie any more than I had to.

"Oh, right." Renee hadn't been involved in the details of the move, though she had certainly done the most talking about it. Since my first suggestion of the idea in August, she had gone from guilty opposition to equally guilty support, through a carefully planned propaganda campaign on my part. It was clear that, although she felt bad about sending me off to live somewhere that she had always considered one step away from Tartarus, she really did want to travel with Phil, something that was not easily managed with a child still in school. Phil had also been tentatively supportive, stating that he would be happy for me to travel with them or stay with Renee in Phoenix, but would be just as happy if I were to live with my father in Washington.

It might have been a little martyr-ish of me to insist on exiling myself to my birthplace (and now, I acknowledged, I was simply indulging in melodramatic melancholy), but I could tell that Renee and Phil really wanted to spend time together, something that they hadn't been able to do much since their honeymoon eight months ago. After I realized that Phil was not just another one of Renee's fads, to be discarded as quickly as hot yoga, gluten-free eating, and dreadlocks, I went out of my way to accommodate my mother's romance.

Privately, though, I still found it a little jarring that my thirty-seven year old mother was married to a man who was closer to my age than her own. But then, Renee had always looked younger than her age. In contrast to my brown hair, pale face, and unremarkable figure, all inherited from Charlie, Renee was a sun-kissed blonde with bright blue eyes and a heartwarming smile, which, combined with her arresting figure, served to make her look closer to thirty – or even twenty-five – than forty.

She and Phil really seemed happy. I was sure that my free-spirited yet inexplicably dependable stepfather would be able to take good care of Renee. I would probably even miss his constant jokes and spontaneous weekend trips to wherever he wanted to go. He and Renee were very well-suited. He was the exact opposite of Charlie, which made him better for Renee but also very exhausting to be around.

My woolgathering was interrupted by the appearance of the airport. I shivered slightly as we pulled into the parking garage; perhaps wearing my favorite light shirt had been a mistake, especially when I thought about the temperature in Forks. At least I had a jacket stowed in my carry-on.

The garage was unsurprisingly full. Families were headed away from their holiday spots, college kids unwillingly returning to their studies. Renee insisted on finding a parking space near an entrance so that I wouldn't have to manhandle my luggage too far on my bad ankle, but we had to drive up to level three to find one.

We unloaded my duffel bag and two large, rolling suitcases in silence. Noting the anxious crease in Renee's forehead, I rearranged my features into a cheerful expression. "Hey, mom, look at it on the bright side; at least I'll spend less money on sunblock and visors!"

Renee smiled weakly at the joke, her eyes looking a little watery. Determined to get things moving as quickly as possible, I shouldered the duffel and took the handle of one suitcase, wishing I could manage to pull both at the same time so as to avoid inconveniencing Renee, and headed for the elevator. We crossed the parking lanes and the street and entered the airport, pausing only to check the signs for directions to the proper desk.

"Did you print out your boarding pass?" Renee asked, eying the long line for check-in.

I didn't have to check my bag to know the answer, but I did so anyway. "Yep, I printed it last night. Here it is, right at the top of my carry-on." I waved the paper reassuringly before tucking it into my pocket and zipping my bag closed once more.

The line to check luggage was, thankfully, short. I gratefully checked my three bags, received my claim ticket, and headed off toward security, Renee in tow.

"Well, this is it," I said as we joined the end of the short line. "Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to Forks I go."

Renee promptly burst into tears. I felt my own eyes getting a little watery as I hugged my mother tightly.

"I'm going to miss you, Bella," Renee sobbed into my shoulder. "Are you sure you want to go? It's not too late to change your mind, I could—"

"No, mom," I interrupted firmly. "I want to go. I know you hate Forks, but… it won't be so bad." I had been repeating those phrases so often that I almost believed them by this point, so hopefully Renee would believe them too. Besides, there were upsides to Forks. It was smaller than Phoenix, for one thing. That meant shorter lines at stores, fewer people in crowded spaces, and fewer aggressive drivers, usually. Renee saw only the lack of opportunities and the difficulty of getting to other places when in a town that was functionally in the middle of nowhere.

"Okay, baby." Renee sniffled, drawing back and giving me a watery smile. "Call me when you get in, okay?"

"I will, mom, I promise." I smiled in what I hoped was a convincing and non-teary way before turning to walk through the gate and out of sight.

I made it through the line quickly, with no security hang-ups to slow things down. I decided to treat myself to an iced tea and a shockingly overpriced cheese sandwich from the nearest café, then found a nice corner of the terminal to tuck into. I put in my earbuds, flipped through my musical selection until I found something suitably depressing for the occasion, and began to munch the bland sandwich.

Two years in Forks, a place that I knew mostly through Renee's unflattering stories. Even though Charlie lived there, I had spent most of my recent summer visitations with him at a nice little resort in sunny California. Renee joked (not without an edge of as much malice as she was capable of having) about it being his only opportunity to see the sun.

But I had done my research before I proposed my solution to Renee. Forks got over a hundred inches of precipitation per year, and was cloudy two-thirds of the time. I was officially going to evolve into a fish, and I didn't even like to swim.

I knew that my reluctance to live in Forks ran a lot deeper than the weather, though. Somehow I couldn't shake the nagging fear that I'd end up following in Renee's footsteps. I could picture it now: being swept off my feet by a wonderful guy, marrying him young, settling down in the backwoods, and then running off with my newborn child. Or – almost worse – staying forever. I wanted to be a journalist, and to do that you had to go places and see people, not live in Forks.

"Now boarding group one onto flight three seventeen to Seattle."

I was in group two, thanks to Phil and his frequent-flyer miles. I tucked my belongings back into my bag, disposed of my trash, and then waited for group two to be called before joining the ragged line.

The boarding agent was professionally cheerful, and I did my best to be equally agreeable, but my smile was forced and my efforts fell flat. Luckily, I avoided physically falling flat, even managing to make the step from tunnel to plane without tripping on the threshold. With no bulky bag to stuff into the overhead rack, I was able to head straight to my seat and settle in.

The only downside to boarding early was that, instead of waiting in the terminal, you had to wait in the much smaller and hotter airplane. I leaned my head against the window and tried not to be too impatient. I had brought a book, but I would much rather sleep through the three-and-a-half hour flight.

The attendant finally announced that the flight was ready for departure. I tried to pay attention to the safety spiel – masks, exits, seat-belts, cushions, rafts, etc. If the plane did go down, I probably had no chance of survival anyway. It would be hard enough for someone who was fit and physically able to survive. I was neither.

The plane sped down the runway and my heartbeat accelerated along with it. The speed always seemed rather unsafe to me, and the stomach-dropping moment when the wheels lost contact with the pavement was enough to make me a little bit panicky. The feeling slowly evaporated as we ascended, and by the time the pilot announced that passengers could use their electronics and leave their seats, I was breathing normally again.

I went back to my music, choosing an album of slow Celtic songs as appropriately gloomy and sleep-inducing. If I closed my eyes, the thrum of the engines was almost soothing. I don't remember falling asleep, but I don't think it took very long.

It was a four hour drive from Seattle to Forks, which merely served to further emphasize the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere, in this case, meant the expanse of irritatingly green forest that surrounded the bus that I was riding. I sighed and checked my watch, wishing that it was light enough to pull out my book and pass the time more pleasantly. Unfortunately, one of the downsides to lots of clouds was the fact that it was already quite dark despite being an hour before sunset.

An incautious shift of my curled up position made me wince as my ankle throbbed. I had managed to trip in Seattle as I tried to wrangle all of my luggage to the bus, once again re-injuring the sprain which I had dealt with since eighth grade, when I had tried out for the soccer team and gotten run over by one of the bigger girls. My doctor had optimistically predicted that the injury wouldn't trouble me for long, but given my track record for stupidly injuring myself, I wasn't too terribly surprised that it was still around.

A kind, fatherly-type man had taken pity on me and helped me move my belongings, telling me that he had a daughter about my age and he'd want someone to do the same for her if she were ever in that situation. Without that assistance, I wasn't sure that I would have made it to the bus in time, and the idea of hanging around the airport all night to catch the morning bus was horrific enough that I was able to overcome my embarrassment at having had to be helped.

I glanced at my watch again, saw that exactly three minutes had passed since the last time I checked, and gave up, turning to stare out of the window into the darkening woods.

Normally, I wouldn't just be sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I usually found more useful things to do with my time, like reading or homework or writing. None of those options were readily available to me right now, which was why I was engaged in self-pity.

How many things could go wrong? I could think of lots of possible misfortunes. I might fail all my classes. I might not make any friends. I might fight with Charlie. I might break my ankle in the middle of the woods and freeze to death, or be eaten by a bear. I might not be able to find a job that allowed me to save up for college. If that happened, my college options might be limited.

It wasn't as though I hadn't considered all of these things before making my decision. I had a habit of weighing every option and then making a stupid choice anyway, usually because I was trying to be nice to someone else at the expense of myself. In this case, I was trying to be nice to Phil and Renee, and succeeding in making myself miserable.

Well, dwelling on my misery wasn't going to help me reconcile myself to living in Forks. What were the upsides? I would get to spend more time with Charlie, which was nice. Even though I didn't see him very much, I liked him. Hopefully our relationship would strengthen a lot while I lived in Forks. I would get to reconnect with the few people I still remembered from my summers in Forks, like the twins and Billy – though maybe I'd bow out of the fishing trips this time. I wouldn't risk heatstroke or sunburns, probably, except maybe in the summer when I went to visit Renee, wherever she was. I wouldn't have to spend as much on sunblock, as I had joked to Renee. I... surely there had to be more positive things than that.

I couldn't really think of any.

It seemed that my self-reflection had taken more time than I had expected, because we were finally approaching Forks. I spotted a lighted "Welcome to Forks" sign and sighed. It made everything so final.

The bus ground to a halt and I waited for everyone else to start exiting before standing up slowly, collecting my luggage and heading awkwardly towards the door. I was not surprised to see Charlie waiting just outside, a slightly anxious smile on his shadowed face.

"Isabella!"

"Dad!" I said, torn between greeting him properly and carefully watching my steps as I tried to get out of the bus. He spotted my difficulty and offered a helping arm, steadying me and giving me something to lean on. Once I was standing on solid ground, I turned to grin genuinely at him.

"How are you, Bells?" he asked, not-so-subtly eying the ankle that I stood gingerly on.

"Good, dad." It was mostly the truth, and I didn't want to ruin our meeting by complaining about anything.

"Your ankle?..." Charlie knew about the old sprain, of course, but didn't know about my habit of re-injuring it every few months.

"Tripped in Seattle," I answered. "It's nothing."

"Oh." Charlie was quiet for a minute, and I took the opportunity to pull the hood of my jacket over my head. It was drizzling slightly, as could only be expected. "Well then, let's get your things in the car and get you home."

'Getting things in the car' turned out to mean me sitting in the front seat of the cruiser while Charlie hauled everything out of the bus and stowed it in the trunk and the back seat. When I had offered to help, he had smiled vaguely and patted me on the shoulder with a 'maybe next time.'

 _I probably should have worn a warmer jacket_ , I mused as Charlie slid into the driver's seat beside me. Forks was exceeding my expectations, it seemed.

"Did you eat dinner in Seattle?" Charlie asked, starting up the car and turning the heater a few notches higher.

"No," I answered ruefully, "and I'm starving."

My father grinned at me, and his cheerfulness was catching. "Traveling always makes me hungry. How about pizza?"

I smiled. "Sounds perfect."

Charlie called his order ahead and we picked up our pizza on the way home. As I walked in I noticed how little had changed since my last arrival. The kitchen had a new stove, someone had painted over the peeling wallpaper in the entryway, but it was still the house I had spent summers in as a kid. Now we were curled up on the same old couch I remembered sitting on as a child, watching reruns of I Love Lucy and drinking soda. During an ad break, Charlie muted the TV and turned to me.

"You want a car, right, Bells?"

"Yep," I replied. "Walking all over town in the rain doesn't sound too fun." I smiled in an attempt to take any sting away from my too-honest words, reminding myself to watch my mouth better.

Charlie looked a little bashful, sliding his eyes to the side and rubbing his thumb against his can of Dr. Pepper. "Well, I, uh… I went ahead and bought you one when you said you were coming."

"You bought me a car?" I wasn't quite sure that I believed my ears, but I wasn't in the habit of hearing imaginary voices.

"Well, it's a truck, actually. It used to be Billy Black's – remember him from fishing trips?"

"Yeah, sure I remember him. How is he?" I had never owned a car before – I usually just caught the bus when I needed to go somewhere, and had taken my driver's test in a Honda Civic from the late nineties that belonged to our upstairs neighbor. Somehow, I had always imagined myself driving a nice, small, inconspicuous car, but a truck didn't seem too unfathomable.

"He's doing great. Can't leave his wheelchair anymore, but that hasn't stopped him from doing just about everything." Charlie paused, then smiled, a touch shyly. "He and Jacob—you remember him, too?—will be along for dinner tomorrow to drop it off and tell you all about it."

Distracted from memories of enthusiastic games of tag and pie-eating contests with Jacob and his sisters, I grinned, bouncing upright from my comfortable slouch. "How old is it? What does it look like? How well does it run?"

"Whoa, slow down, eager beaver," Charlie chuckled. "It's a Chevy from the 1950s."

I assumed an expression of shock. "It's older than you are? It must be a fossil!"

Charlie snorted and shoved me with an elbow. "Hey, watch your mouth, young lady. I resemble that remark."

I immediately looked contrite, but I was happy to see that he hadn't forgotten our oldest joke: me calling him ancient and him responding appropriately. Before I could ask any more questions about the truck, the commercial break ended and we turned our attention back to the Ricardo family.


	2. Transplanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella wakes up... in Forks. But some things are good! Like colors! And brownies! And Jacob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessings upon Kyilliki, who betaread this back in 2015. Updated slightly to reflect my attempts to avoid said bookism.

I awakened suddenly with the sinking feeling of unfamiliarity. It wasn't as though I hadn't woken up in strange places before, but it never ceased to unsettle me just a little.

I relaxed as I realized that I was in my bedroom upstairs at Charlie's house. I hadn't recognized it at first because the walls were no longer faded pink; someone had repainted them a bright and sunny yellow. A framed picture of a colorful desert hung opposite from the windows, which were covered by vivid orange curtains. My comforter was the same shade, vaguely reminding me of an apricot.

I couldn't suppress my smile as I looked around at all the things that had changed since the last time I had been in here. If I needed evidence that my steady, unchanging father was happy to have me live with him, this was more than enough.

As I pulled the covers back, I realized that I was still wearing the clothes that I had worn the day before. I couldn't remember the last time that I had fallen asleep before putting on my pajamas, if only just because I had a tendency to wear pajamas whenever it was socially acceptable, including as soon as I got home from school and all day on the weekends.

Come to think of it, I couldn't remember going to bed the night before. I racked my brain, but the last thing that I could remember was someone throwing a pie at Lucy Ricardo's face.

I made my bed and briefly showered before heading downstairs. Charlie was seated at the small table in the kitchen, absorbed in his newspaper. The remains of a cup of coffee and a plate of potato stir-fry sat off to one side.

"Morning, dad," I said cheerfully, giving him a half-hug on my way to the stove.

Charlie smiled over the top of his paper. "Morning, Bells. How did you sleep last night?"

"Like a baby," I answered, stirring the potatoes that were sitting in the frying pan. "I must have been tireder than I thought."

"You fell asleep in the middle of the show last night," Charlie said, his voice fond. "It seemed a shame to wake you, so I carried you up to bed and tucked you in."

I paused in the middle of reaching up for a plate, realizing that it made sense. "Aww, dad, you shouldn't have. I could have walked upstairs myself and not put you out."

"You were sleeping, Bells. Traveling is always tiring. It wasn't much."

I changed the subject awkwardly, my ears hot with embarrassment. "Did you want any more of this or can I finish it?"

"Eat as much as you want," Charlie answered, burying himself in his newspaper once more.

I took him up on the offer, emptying the pan and chasing the vegetables down with a tall glass of orange juice. Charlie's cooking was good, but I resolved to take over at least half of it in the future. If I was going to be living here, I should be pulling my weight. When I ventured the idea, Charlie approved, but insisted that he cook dinner that night.

Charlie was on his third cup of coffee by the time I was finished with the dishes. I didn't want to interrupt his perusal of the paper, so it was lucky - or maybe just predictable - that everything was still in the same place it had been the last time.

I headed back upstairs and started to unpack. Between the bags that I'd brought with me and the two boxes that had been sent on ahead of me, I had enough to fill the small closet and the large bookshelf adequately. Charlie called up the stairs to ask if I wanted lunch about halfway through Operation: Integrate, and I yelled back that I'd hold out for dinner, since I was sure that it would be absolutely delicious. I was almost sure that I hadn't imagined the embarrassed pride in his final reply.  
By the time I had gotten down to the end of the last box, which contained my personal library, I was very tired and more than ready for a break. Packing my books alphabetically turned out to be a great idea, since the last book out of the box was _Watership Down_ , a perennial favorite. I settled down on my cozy new bedspread to read about sapient rabbits for a while.

"A while" accidentally turned into "most of the afternoon." The clock read five-thirty when I finally emerged from the intense focus that always accompanied reading for me. Hazel and his band of fluffy yet dangerous compatriots had just come up with a plan to thwart General Woundwort, and I wanted to continue reading through the climax… but reality called in the form of a noisy truck turning into the driveway.

I tucked _Watership Down_ back into its appropriate spot on my shelf and made my way carefully downstairs, flicking off the overhead light on my way. I was just in time to greet the Blacks as they entered the front door.

Billy (he had always been Billy to me; nobody called him Mr. Black) seemed much smaller than the last time I had seen him, before summer visits with Charlie moved from Forks to California. He hadn't been confined to a wheelchair back then, and I was taller than I had been, so his eternal grin was directed up instead of down.  
Jacob, on the other hand, was now much larger than I remembered him. Despite being two years younger than me, he was already at least six inches taller, and his proportions were gawky enough that I suspected he wasn't done growing yet. I felt suddenly shy; I had been expecting the boy I had spent summers as a kid with, making mud pies and splashing in the creek, but he seemed to have disappeared. Dumb puberty. It would have been nice to really know one person near my age.  
"Isabella!" Billy thundered, his voice at least twice as big as he was. I beamed at him and bent to carefully embrace the old man, not expecting the strength of the bear hug he returned. A minute later, laughing and breathless, I held my hand out to Jacob, which he briefly shook and released quickly.

"Hiya, Bella," he said, looking almost as awkward as I felt.

"Hey Billy, Jacob!" I welcomed them, stepping back to let them out of the narrow entryway into the living room. "It's so good to see you guys again!"

Billy wheeled himself into the room, pausing to sniff exaggeratedly. "Smells like you made your famous lasagna, eh, Charlie?"

I saw Jacob perk up at this announcement and smiled. Charlie made a mean lasagna, if my memory served me correctly. I usually avoided dairy products, but I would make an exception for tonight.

"You bet," Charlie agreed pleasantly, heading into the kitchen and checking the oven. He pulled the pan of lasagna out and placed it on the counter. "Jacob, why don't you and Bella run outside and look over the truck while dinner is sitting?" 

"Sure," the boy said, smiling shyly at me. "C'mon."

He held the door open and I ducked under his arm, glancing up at the sky as soon as I was outside. The clouds were heavy and threatening, but it was not raining… yet. I hoped it would hold off until we were back inside.

The truck sat in our gravel driveway in all its ancient gravity. It was large, rust-colored, and looked utterly indestructible. I loved it already.

"It's a 1953 Chevy," Jacob said as we walked towards it. "If it was restored, it'd be worth ten, fifteen grand."

"Wow!" I was impressed that a half-century old car was still running without being owned by a collector or something. "Why didn't you restore it and sell it?"

Jacob shrugged. "Too expensive, too hard to get parts, too much time and work involved. I gotta get through school, y'know."

"Oh," I said. "I see." I didn't really, since I had no idea what it would take to restore a car at all, let alone one like this, but he sounded like he knew what he was talking about, so I believed him.

"It's manual—you do know how to drive a clutch, right?" Jacob interrupted himself anxiously. I nodded and he continued, looking relieved. "If you shift too hard, it has a tendency to quit unexpectedly… and it sticks sometimes when you go to reverse. Aside from that, it runs real well."

I nodded again, filing the information away in my head. The quirks of the truck might make driving it a little more challenging, but it was nice that it had some age, some character to it.

"Wanna give her a spin?" Jacob held a key out to me. "The lasagna is gonna be sitting for at least ten minutes."

Jacob's smile was infectious and I found myself finally feeling at ease around him. "Sure! Let's try it out!" I took the key from him and we hopped into the cab of the truck. I felt suddenly small in comparison with the big vehicle; I was used to small, suburban cars, not monsters like this.

It took me two tries to move without killing the engine. Jacob suppressed a snicker, but let me work it out by myself. Eventually, I pulled slowly out of the driveway, being careful to avoid clipping Charlie's cruiser.

I was not the best driver - that required more practice than I had - but I did manage not to run into or over anything on our short tour of the neighborhood, and I only killed the engine one more time, trying to stop at a stop sign. By the time I pulled back into the driveway, I was fairly confident that I could make it to school. I was also pretty sure that Jacob and I should be friends. Now that he had had a chance to warm up to me, he was cracking jokes and making groan-worthy puns at every opportunity.

"What's the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants?" he asked impishly as I brought the truck to a stop.

"I have no idea," I answered, shutting off the motor and opening my door.

"One's a crusty bus station and the other's a busty crustacean." He hopped out of the truck and I couldn't see his face, but I was fairly sure that he was smirking.

"That's _terrible_ ," I groaned, slamming the door behind me. "Really, Jake? Really?"

"It's _funny_ ," he said, following me towards the house. "You should laugh."

"Ha-ha." The smell of lasagna and brownies greeted me as I entered the house and I inhaled appreciatively, groan-worthy pun forgotten.

Billy and Charlie were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, plates of lasagna in their laps, studiously watching the game. Charlie turned his head and smiled at me as I entered the living room, waving me towards the kitchen. "Meat's on the left, meatless on the right," he informed me.

The meatless lasagna hadn't been touched yet, so I didn't feel bad about taking a nice big piece. I perched on the arm of the couch next to Charlie, tried to figure out what was happening in the basketball game that was on, and gave up after a few minutes to focus on my food. It didn't disappoint - sixteen years of bachelorhood had honed Charlie's culinary skill to perfection.

By the time the Seattle SuperSonics had lost to the Orlando Magic by what I was told was a sizeable margin, everyone was ready for brownies. I managed to get them out of the oven without burning myself even once, an accomplishment that was sarcastically applauded by the others. I skipped the vanilla Breyers in favor of the fresh raspberries I found in the fridge and we all settled down once more to have a proper chat.

"Rachel is holding her own at Wasu," Billy said with pride.

"Wasu?" I asked, realizing a moment later that it was a little obvious.

"Washington State University. Wasu. She had a little trouble getting adjusted last year, but from what she said over the break, she's really enjoying her sophomore year."

It was hard to believe that Rachel Black, who I distinctly remembered as a wild girl with absolutely no interest in academia, was enjoying college, but stranger things had happened. "How is Rebecca?" I asked.

"How's her husband treating her?" Charlie added. Right, husband. She had one of those, didn't she? I knew I'd heard something to that effect, but it was still a shock. The twins were less than three years older than me, and the idea that one of them could be married already was… really weird.

"Rebecca's doing great," Jacob answered. "She and Sol sent us a Christmas card from some surfing competition in Australia."

"Australia, wow. Is she still, uh, painting?" I thought—hoped—it was Becca who had been the painter.

"Yeah," Jacob nodded. "She's pretty good at it. You'll have to see some of the stuff we have hanging in the living room sometime."

"I'd love to," I said, then ran out of things to talk about.

"You got any college plans, Bella?" Billy asked after a pause that was just long enough to be awkward.

I shrugged. "Nothing concrete, no. There's a couple places with good English and journalism courses that I'm looking at, but I haven't quite made my mind up yet." I did have lists, though. Lots and lots of lists covering every possible aspect of the decision. I was fairly confident that I'd be able to make an informed choice by the end of my junior year, then apply early in my senior year and get on the fast track. My grades were good enough for that, at least.

"Journalism, huh? You like ferretting out secrets?" Billy chuckled, exchanging a significant glance with Charlie. "You gonna start shadowing your old man to find out what he's up to?"

Charlie threw a pillow in Billy's direction with a mock scowl. "Bells and I don't need to keep secrets from each other unless it's Christmas."

After another slightly awkward pause, Billy brought up the basketball game and the three guys lapsed into what sounded suspiciously like a foreign language. I knew a few things about baseball—it would be difficult to spend more than an hour around Phil without picking up at least a little bit about the sport - but basketball was not something that I was familiar with, so I excused myself and started washing the dinner dishes. By the time I was done, the conversation was winding down and Billy was starting to make noises about heading out.

"Harry was gonna swing by and pick us up in twenty, but I think I'll call him and ask him to come sooner," he rumbled, glancing at his watch.

"Absolutely not," Charlie overruled. "I'll drive you home."

"Well now, I wouldn't want to put you out," Billy demurred gruffly, digging a flip phone out of his pocket. "Harry's not far, and—"

"Out of the question," Charlie interrupted, fishing car keys from his jeans. "The only reason you need a ride is because you just sold me your truck, so I gotta take you back."

"Well," Billy hesitated, then yielded suddenly. "Sure, if you want."

"You'll be okay, Bells?" Charlie asked, hesitating just inside the door with a cautious glance my way.

I shooed him out the door. "I'll be fine, dad. Don't worry about me."

"Bye, Bella," Billy called, wheeling himself over the threshold with ease. "Good to see you again."

"Bye," Jacob added, turning shy again and refusing to make eye contact as he followed his father out. "See you later."

"Goodbye, guys," I shouted after them, hanging the dishtowel over the fridge handle to dry. The rumble of Charlie's cruiser pulled away a moment later as I stuck the leftover lasagna into the fridge and sneaked one more brownie before covering the pan and putting it back in the mostly-cooled oven.

"Right," I said to myself, glancing at the clock. It was only ten, but I needed to get back into school sleeping habits sometime, I figured. With that cheerful reflection, I headed upstairs, pulled Watership Down from my shelf once more and tucked myself into my new bed.

It started to rain as I read all about Bigwig infiltrating the dictatorial warren, with the result being that I didn't hear Charlie's car pull back into the driveway. My first warning of his return was his heavy tread on the stairs a moment before he peeked tentatively through my open door.

"Need anything, Bells?" he asked with an anxious smile. "Just wanted to make sure before I went to bed."

"I'm great, dad, thanks for checking," I said. "Uh, thanks. For the truck and everything. It was really nice."

Charlie shrugged, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. "I knew Billy wanted to sell it, and I knew you wanted to buy something, so it just made sense, I guess. Glad you like it."

"It's great. Thanks."

"Well, uh, goodnight. Sleep well, Bells." Charlie smiled one more time and retreated back down the stairs. I decided to set aside my book for the night and turned off my lamp before snuggling down. Sleep was a long time in coming, but eventually I drifted off.


	3. Clean Slate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Bella's first day at Forks High, and it isn't a disaster. Did she send someone home sick from Biology, though? No, it must be bad timing. Of course. That's the only _reasonable_ explanation.

I woke to the sound of my alarm angrily blaring much too close to my head. Blearily, I rolled over and hit what was probably off but might have been snooze. Why was my alarm on? I hadn’t heard that sound since… since school.

Right, it was Monday, and I was about to start the second half of my junior year at Forks High. The weekend had passed much too quickly for my taste, and the dreaded day had arrived.

I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, debating whether or not I could get away without showering so I could close my eyes. My alarm decided the question for me by going off again. I hit the off, briefly considered throwing the whole thing through the window, then decided against it and dragged myself out from under the covers.

A hot shower improved my mood dramatically, and by the time I was downstairs in the kitchen I was feeling tentatively optimistic about the whole thing. I scarfed down some cereal with rice milk, threw on my heavy coat, grabbed my book-bag, and headed out to the truck.

I had made the short drive twice already, once just to scope the place out and once to get my class schedule and a map of the small campus, so I wasn’t worried about finding it. I arrived in the parking lot with eleven minutes to kill, so I put in my earbuds and turned on something really peppy to try and hype myself up. It worked a little bit.

By the time I climbed carefully out of my truck, the parking lot was nearly full. Students (the majority of them in clothes that didn’t look nearly warm enough) milled about, talking in groups or hurrying towards buildings.

My first class of the day was English, which actually sounded exciting. I filed in with my peers, carefully avoiding eye contact as much as possible. There was a rack for coats, though not many coats were actually there, since apparently I was one of a select few who were dressed appropriately for the weather.

The teacher announced that we were going to be starting on Frederick Douglass’ autobiography, appropriately titled _My Bondage and My Freedom_. As he launched into a brief summary of the book’s contents, I took the opportunity to peek at the reading list, noting with relief that it was fairly standard as far as American literature went. I spent the rest of the class studiously taking notes, relaxing gradually in the comfort provided by the familiar academic exercise.

The bell buzzed sharply and I started at the intrusive sound. _Too jumpy_ , I criticized myself, sweeping my notebook and pens into my bag and levering myself out of my chair. All around me people were hurrying in various directions or lingering for a brief chat. I checked my schedule as I started walking toward the door.

 _Oof!_ My forward movement was sharply arrested as I ran smack into someone in the aisle. I glanced up over the top of my papers hurriedly, cheeks heating in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” the boy said. He was Asian, a few inches taller than me, and had a pleasant smile that was immediately calming. “You look a little lost—can I help?”

“Oh, uh, I’m looking for Government, Ms. Jefferson, building six?” I had circled all pertinent parts of my itinerary on my map, but somehow I’d managed to shove that into my bag with the rest of my things.

“I’m headed in the opposite direction, but if you walk out with me, I’ll point you to it?” he offered, gesturing towards the door.

“Uh, sure, thanks.”

“I’m Eric,” he said as we walked outside. “Eric Yorkie.”

“Eric,” I repeated, glancing at his face to try and connect the two in my mind. “I’m Bella Swan.”

“Chief Swan’s daughter?” We had stopped on the sidewalk at this point, and people were pushing past us.

“Uh, yeah. You know him?” 

“Sure, everybody knows Chief Swan. He’s good people.” Eric flashed his charming smile again and I found myself smiling back. “If you’re his daughter, you must be good people too. That’s six,” he pointed at a building that looked no different from any of the others. “Good luck in Government!”

“Thanks!” I half-waved as he turned and hurried in the other direction. I was officially acquainted with exactly one person. “One down, three hundred fifty-six to go,” I muttered to myself before dutifully heading off in the direction my new friend had indicated.

Government was uneventful. I estimated that they were about three lessons behind where my government class in Phoenix had left off, which meant that I could spend my time alternating between doodling and supplementing the notes I already had.

I remembered to hang onto my map at the end of class, and so was able to find my way to Trigonometry by myself. The girl across the aisle from me came in almost tardy and smiled at me as she hurried to her seat.

“I’d like to welcome a new student to our ranks,” the teacher announced after a preliminary greeting. I slumped a little lower in my chair, a lump rising into my throat at the words. Being singled out in class was the last thing that I wanted.

“Miss Isabella Swan,” he continued, “recently of Phoenix, Arizona. Wave to the class, Isabella.”

I forced a smile—it felt more like a grimace—to my face and weakly obeyed him. He said something about hoping I was enjoying classes so far and he was sure everyone would do their best to welcome me, then moved into the lesson. I let out a breath I wasn’t aware that I was holding and shook my head a little. The girl across the aisle caught my eye and smiled again, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly and tossing her mane of chestnut hair.

At the end of class she came over and introduced herself as Jessica Stanley. It turned out that we had Spanish together too, so we ambled in that direction, making awkward small talk. I found out that she was the oldest of four, and she expressed envy of my only child status. She also talked a lot about her new puppy. By the time we were seated in Spanish, I was sure that I would like her.

The minute Spanish was over, she was back at my side. “You probably don’t know a whole lot of people here,” she said, “so you should sit with me at lunch. I’ll introduce you to some cool kids.”

“Sounds great,” I said. It was easy to agree with Jessica; she was a thoroughly agreeable person, if a little more bubbly than necessary. It was disarming and I found myself relaxing a little as we headed towards the cafeteria.

“Guys, this is Bella. Bella, these are the guys,” she said loudly as we stopped in front of a large table with a broad assortment of occupants. I recognized Eric and a girl who had been in English and Spanish, as well as two boys from Government.

A welter of introductions followed. Despite my best efforts, I only managed to hang on to a few names—there was Conner, one arm draped casually across the chair of Lauren, the girl whose face I had recognized, and Tyler, one of the boys from Gov. I ended up sitting between Jessica and a really nice girl named Angela who let Jessica do most of the talking.

“What’s it like in Phoenix?” Jessica asked brightly.

I took a bite of my pizza before responding. “Hot. Bright. Really… desert-y.”

“Did you like it there?”

“Yeah, it was nice. I’ll miss it, I guess.”

“What was your favorite thing about it?”

I paused to think about my answer. There were a lot of things that I really liked about Phoenix, but my favorite thing? “Probably the landscape,” I said. “It was really vibrant. No offense, but aside from all the green, Forks is… all the same.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jessica agreed merrily, seeming very unoffended by my bluntness. “Living in a rainforest can be really nice sometimes, but it’s really _rainy_.”

“A rainforest?” I asked, curious. “I thought that was like, the jungle.”

“This is the other kind of rainforest. Similar amount of rain, different kind of climate,” she explained.

“Oh.” I filed the information away. “Do you like it here?”

“Yeah, lots. You can’t beat the PNW for scenery or people, even if the weather’s a little bonkers.”

“PNW?” I felt a little stupid asking, but I honestly couldn’t come up with any explanation for what appeared to be an odd acronym.

“Pacific Northwest,” she said. “PNW. You’ll get used to the local slang pretty quick, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, probably,” I agreed, going back to my pizza. Jessica seemed to understand that I was done talking and turned her attention to the other side of the table, chatting animatedly with the boy to her left and his friends.

I finished eating and got up to dump my plate in the trash, then headed back to my table to scoop up my belongings. I looked down at my map, trying to figure out where I was supposed to go next.

“What’s your next class?” Angela asked kindly, glancing over at the schedule I was clinging to like a lifeboat.

“Uh, biology, I think,” I answered, taking a peek at the slot immediately after lunch. I would have honestly preferred chemistry, but that class was already full. Biology it was, then.

“Mike could walk you there?” she said with a smile. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Mike is…” Drat. I knew I’d been introduced, but the generic name wasn’t ringing any bells.

“He’s the tall blond one, Seahawks shirt, other side of Jessica.”

I nodded quickly. “Got it.”

She smiled again before she turned away, tapping Mike’s shoulder and whispering briefly to him in passing. He looked up, made eye-contact with me, and grinned cheerfully. 

I smiled and waved back, a little shyly. The bell went off just then and in the ensuing chaos I found myself walking towards the exit, Mike at my side.

“Hey, Bella, right?” he said warmly.

I smiled up at him. “Right. You’re Mike?”

“Last time I checked, at least.” We both chuckled. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“No law against it,” I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why Bella? Why not Izzy or Isabella?”

I bit my lip. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t, scout’s honor,” he promised solemnly.

“Bella Abzug was a famous feminist and one of the first female Congresswomen. I wanted to be just like her when I was little,” I admitted, bracing myself for the inevitable ‘are you a _feminist_? Eww!’ comment that invariably followed my explanation.

“Woah! Should I start calling you President Swan, then?”

“No, I don’t think I’m cut out for politics.” Phew. Crisis averted. “She’s still one of my heroes, but now I think I’d like to be a journalist… or maybe an ice-cream van driver. But probably the journalist thing.”

“Cool!” Mike’s enthusiasm seemed unfeigned, and I found myself relaxing even more. “My dad—he owns the hipster Cabela—says I’m a born salesman, but I’d really like to be a marine biologist.”

“So, are you in it for the dolphins?” I inquired jokingly. “Or is it the sharks you like?”

“Seals, actually. Did you know that Mediterranean monk seals are among the most endangered species in the _world_?”

“I do now!”

“They’re the rarest pinniped—that means seal—and there are under six-hundred of them left. Oh, sorry,” he broke off, with a rueful smile. “I’m probably boring.”

“No, not at all! It’s always great to talk to someone who has a passion. Don’t let anyone squelch it.”

Relief was evident in his expression. “Thanks for not thinking I’m weird.”

We had paused just in front of the biology room at some point, though I wasn’t sure exactly when we had stopped walking. Mike pulled the door open with a flourish. “After you, m’lady.”

I heard someone behind us choke and start sputtering. Embarrassed by the possibility of someone teasing us, I hurried through the door, head down just a little. Behind me, Mike asked someone named Cullen if he was okay and received a grunted negative and a request to tell the teacher that he wasn’t feeling well. Maybe this Cullen had just started feeling sick, and it had nothing to do with Mike’s goofy gallantry.

I caught a glimpse of an unusually attractive face as the door closed behind me, but the impression didn’t linger for long as I sat down at the only table with a vacancy. It turned out that the other seat at the table was normally occupied by Cullen, whose first name I still didn’t know. I was torn between being happy that I had a hot lab partner (other people seemed to get really excited about them, so I supposed I should be too) and annoyed that he’d suddenly bailed for no apparent reason.

We weren’t doing any labs that day, so it didn’t really matter anyway. I paid attention and took diligent notes as the teacher, Mr. Banner, discussed something that was probably really important but honestly just sounded really boring to me

The bell rang and Mike sauntered up as I cleared the top of my desk. I smiled at him over the top of my papers and he returned it cheerfully.

“Next class?”

“Gym,” I replied, not having to check my schedule. I was halfway dreading gym; I usually ended up injuring myself at least once every semester, and I doubted that this year would be any different. My ankle throbbed gently as if to remind me that I’d reinjured it recently and had to be extra careful if I didn’t want it to become a full-fledged sprain again.

“Me too!” The enthusiasm in his voice was entirely disproportionate to his discovery. “I’ll walk you there?”

“Sure,” I agreed, turning to head toward the door. On the way out I noticed that something had gouged a big chunk out of the edge of the doorframe, which I must have missed on the way in. Mike noticed it too, and raised his eyebrows a little. Apparently it hadn’t been there before Christmas break. We spent the short walk to gym tossing back and forth ever-increasingly ridiculous theories about what had caused it, from vandalism to alien invasions, with the result that we were both a little out of breath from laughter by the time we made it inside.

I managed to survive all the way through the friendly basketball game that was going on by dint of staying as close to the outer edge of the proceedings as was humanely possible at all times. With my help (and my staying out of the way was definitely the most helpful thing I could do), my team handily won.

I ran into Jessica in the parking lot on the way out to my car and we stopped to chat a little more. She started pointing out people as they walked by, giving me their names and brief histories. I did my best to keep up with her rapid-fire explanations, but the only ones that really made an impression were two couples with a fairly unusual story.

“The big one is Emmett, the tiny one is Alice—they’re Mrs. Cullen’s cousins, I think, and the others are Jasper and Rosalie—Dr. Cullen’s sister’s kids,” she informed me. “She sent them to live with her brother while she does missionary work in Africa or something. There’s Edward, too, Mrs. Cullen’s younger brother, but he’s not here, which is weird because I thought I saw him at lunch.”

“Cullen?” I asked, remembering the name. “A kid named Cullen went home sick from Biology. Maybe that’s where he is.”

“Maybe. Crap! I’m working today. I need to get going or I’ll be late for my shift. See you tomorrow!”

The suddenness of her conversation shifts was giving me whiplash, but I didn’t mind that much. “Bye!” I called after her as she darted off as quickly as she did everything else.

On my drive home, I thought over the things I’d learned so far. My social life was shaping up pretty decently, much better than it had been in Phoenix.  Sure, there had been some moments where I’d felt like I’d swallowed a golf ball, but it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. I’d done the whole ‘starting a new school’ thing several times before, after all. Maybe Forks wasn’t going to be too bad.


	4. First Foray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella wanders around Forks, meets some relevant characters, and hangs out with Jacob.

“So, Bells,” Charlie began, lowering his newspaper to look at me. I looked up from the vegetable stir-fry that I was cooking and nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“The Blacks are coming over tonight, and if you and Jacob want to go do something fun, well, don’t feel obliged to stick around on my account.”

“Okay, dad,” I said, trying to hide my skepticism. I couldn’t really think of anything in Forks that I would find particularly fun on a Saturday night. The town had a bowling alley, and… well, it had a bowling alley. That was about it.

“And, uh, weren’t you planning on looking around for a job sometime soon?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about it.” I couldn’t in good conscience rely on either of my parents for pocket money, and while my savings account was much fuller than I had expected due to Charlie’s generous gift of transportation, I knew that it wouldn’t last for too long. I doubted that I could find as nice a job as the cashier position I’d held at the little bookstore back in Phoenix, but I wasn’t averse to the idea of waitressing or something similar.

“I ran into Rob Newton yesterday and he mentioned that they’re looking for a cashier over at his store. I’m sure he’d be happy to see an application from you, if you wanted to do that.” Charlie seemed ill-at-ease in the role of parental advisor, but that wasn’t terribly surprising.

“Wow, dad, thanks for the tip.” I turned back to the stove just in time to keep the peppers from burning. “Maybe I’ll swing by there and put in a resume.”

“I just want you to be happy, here Bells,” Charlie said gruffly, hiding behind his newspaper once more.

I scraped my stir-fry onto a plate and ate it in silence, then checked my watch. I was supposed to call Renee at some point between lunch and dinner on the East Coast, since I’d only talked to her twice since my initial safe-arrival call. I decided to do it immediately and retreated to my room, where I discovered that I had somehow forgotten to plug in my phone the night before.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered, glaring at the blinking red battery symbol. From past experience I knew that it would take at least an hour for the phone to charge to the point of usefulness, which meant that the schedule I had hastily constructed in my head was no longer workable.

Crossly I consulted my to-do list, rejecting one alternative after another until I finally came to one that piqued my interest. I had been in Forks for over a week and yet I still hadn’t visited the local library to get a library card, which was something that I needed to fix as soon as possible. I could also stop by the store and pick up some ice cream for dessert that night on my way home.

The Forks Memorial Library was only a block from the high school, so I knew how to get there. It was a long, low building with a cozy-looking exterior. I liked it immediately, and the feeling did not fade as I entered. The selection of books was basic but not inadequate and the librarian was warm and friendly as she helped me sign up for my library card. By the time I exited the building with a small stack of interesting historical novels and the flyer for a nearby farmer’s market, I was thoroughly content with my choice of activity for the morning.

Following the directions that the librarian had helpfully penciled on the back of my flyer, I found the farmer’s market in just a few minutes. As I pulled into the parking lot, my first impression was of a small, simple collection of stands and tables with a dozen or so people hanging around.

The variety was not overwhelming – this appeared to be a truly local market, not the kind that trucked in extras from warehouses – but I could see some promise. The prices were certainly lower than most health stores, and I was sure that the produce would be good. Local food was best, in my experience.

I filled a bag with apples, another with potatoes, and then added some kale and chard to the mix. I hesitated over grass-fed beef and ended up picking three meals’ worth of inexpensive steak that I thought Charlie would like. A kind woman who introduced herself as Esme and somehow reminded me of Renee helped me total all my items and patiently waited while I dithered over whether or not to buy reusable bags. I ended up with three vividly printed canvas sacks to carry my shopping in.

“Do you need any help with getting that to your car?” she asked, her smile so motherly that I could summon only a momentary flash of annoyance at the fact that I _did_ need help.

“Yeah,” I said sheepishly, trying very hard not to drop the potatoes or overbalance and fall over into the mud. “Thanks.”

“Alice, can you give her a hand?”

A girl who at first glance looked to be no older than fourteen skipped up, gave me a once-over, and casually twitched the top two bags out of my arms. She must have been stronger than she looked, because she didn’t seem to have much trouble carrying them.

“Hi! I’m Alice. You must be Bella Swan. It’s nice to meet you! Where’s your car?”

I blinked at the onslaught. “I have the rusty monolith at the end of the row,” I answered, a little bewildered. “How did you know my name?”

As soon as I indicated where we were going, Alice started in that direction. As I hurried to catch up, she glanced back over her shoulder at me with a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. “You have a Wildcats lanyard on your keys,” she announced. “They’re the football team for University of Arizona. Chief Swan has mentioned that his daughter from Arizona is coming up to live with him, so I put one and one together and got four.”

“Oh.” It seemed a plausible, if unlikely explanation. “I see.”

“Also, your wallet is open in the top of your bag and I saw your license.”

I looked down and, indeed, my license was clearly visible. “Oh,” I said again, feeling a little stupid.

She slowed her steps and I finally caught up with her. As we walked together I covertly studied the side of her face, trying to figure out why she looked familiar. The answer came suddenly as I compared her rapid speech with Jessica’s chatter and recalled the first day of school.

“Are you a Cullen?” 

The corner of her mouth quirked up into a half-smile. “Sorta. I live with them, anyway. My last name is actually Carter, because I’m Esme’s cousin. That makes me a cousin-in-law to Carlisle, who is an actual Cullen.”

I blinked again, trying to assimilate the barrage of information. “Cool.” I wasn’t usually this monosyllabic, was I? “Carlisle is Dr. Cullen?”

“Yep!” We were at the truck now, and Alice managed to open the passenger door faster than I could reach for it, even though she was carrying more than I was. We piled the groceries onto the floor, carefully putting the greens on top so that they wouldn’t be crushed by the heavier bags.

I turned to say goodbye to Alice, but her attention was fixed beyond me. I followed her gaze to where a silver Volvo was pulling into the parking lot. The last parking spot was right next to my truck, so I closed the door and flattened myself against the side to let it park. Alice stayed right where she was and I briefly considered reaching out and yanking her back to keep her from being run over, but decided against it.

I held my breath as the Volvo slid smoothly into the spot, missing Alice by about three inches. I must have let out some sort of anxious sound because she glanced back at me and grinned.

“Jazz and I do this all the time,” she said. “I know right where to stand and he knows how not to hit me.”

“Jazz?” I asked, unable to connect the name to anything. Alice’s mere presence seemed to engender confusion.

Instead of answering, Alice tackled the boy who had just emerged from the car. “Jazz!” she squealed enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Oh.” I was saying that word entirely too much. I felt a little annoyed with myself for suddenly losing all of my conversational abilities, but I couldn’t really find anything else to say.

“Alice,” he greeted her affectionately, dropping a kiss on her forehead. As he lowered her back down to the ground, I was struck by the height difference between them – he had to be over six feet, and she couldn’t be more than five.

“Jazz, this is Bella Swan.” Alice gestured between us. “Bella, this is Jasper Hale, my boyfriend.” She giggled. 

“Nice to meet you.” I smiled politely, shaking the hand that Jasper offered. His hands were even colder than my own, but his expression was warm enough to make up for it.

“My pleasure,” he replied. The faint Southern twang in his voice made the words charming rather than stiff or overly formal and I found myself liking him immediately. My smile became more genuine and I felt a sense of peace and comfort steal over me.

“Ja-azz,” Alice wheedled in a sing-song voice. “C’mon, let’s go!” She was tugging at his arm, pulling him back toward the market.

“Excuse me, Bella,” he said contritely, allowing himself to be dragged away. “Have a pleasant afternoon.”

“Bye?” The one word was all I managed to get out as I watched them heading away, Alice almost skipping and clearly yammering his ear off. He looked happy about it. _Well, that‘s love for you,_ I mused. I hopped into my truck, musing over the uneventful day as I drove home. By the time I turned into my driveway, I was finally able to form coherent sentences of more than five words. What was it that had turned my brain to mush all of a sudden? I wasn’t normally such a basketcase around energetic people… at least, I didn’t think so.

My phone was fully charged when I checked it after putting away the produce that I had just bought. I dialed Renee’s familiar number and waited for her to pick up, drumming my fingers impatiently against my nightstand. Three rings later it went to voicemail.

“Hey, mom,” I said. “I called to chat with you but it sounds like you’re busy. Call me back?” I paused. “Love you. Bye.”

Well, there went my schedule again. I sighed and looked over at my bookshelf, wondering if it was worth it to begin a new book when I’d probably be interrupted at any time either by Renee’s call or the Blacks’ arrival. I preferred to devour my books whole rather than read them in little bits.

It was worth it, I decided, before spending another twenty minutes vacillating between _Interview with the Vampire_ and _The Hunt for Red October_. Both were good reads, and both were upcoming on the English reading list, which made them practical as well as enjoyable. It finally came down to the fact that my gloomy mood was more suited to gothic horror than to a military thriller. And _Interview_ was fifty pages shorter. Double-win. I sprawled across my bedspread and immersed myself in the tragic story of Lestat and Louis.

Louis was in the middle of his spiral into misery and murder when I heard a car pull into the driveway. I bookmarked my spot and hurried downstairs to throw the front door open and welcome Billy and Jacob in with open arms. As soon as they were settled in the living room with Charlie I headed for the kitchen, putting a pot on to boil and emptying a can of tomato sauce into a saucepan to heat up. There was spaghetti for everyone within fifteen minutes and I tucked myself into the overstuffed armchair that belonged to nobody in particular to enjoy my meal and do my best to follow the basketball game that was on.

“Hey, Bella,” Billy said during the commercial break.

I nodded politely.

“How was your week at school? Getting along with everyone?”

“Mostly good. I made a few friends.”

“Oh?” Jacob asked. “Anyone I would know?”

I thought over the people that I had met so far. “Mike Newton? Jessica Stanley, uh… some of Dr. Cullen’s wards. Some others, but I can’t remember last names.”

“I go hiking with Mike,” Jacob replied cheerfully. “He’s a cool guy. Did he finally work up the balls to ask Jessica out?”

I grinned. “They’re very happily dating, as far as I can tell.”

“Good for him.”

The game came back on and the guys returned to viciously rooting against the TrailBlazers. They seemed like a perfectly decent team to me, but Jacob explained that there was some kind of rivalry between Portland and Seattle about everything, including basketball.

Over the next commercial break I had a question of my own. “Dad, one of my teachers said something about an animal attack yesterday. What’s up with that?”

Charlie shrugged. “Something savaged a couple of hikers up on Hoh River. They were there out of season, but that doesn’t mean they should have died.”

“Animal attack?” Billy asked mildly. “What kind of animal?”

“We’re working with Animal Control to figure out what it was – maybe a starving cougar or a big bobcat,” Charlie replied.

“Scary,” I murmured. In Arizona we had scorpions and big spiders, but no large, hungry cats. “I’ll remember not to go hiking by myself.”

“Cougars come out of the woods once in a while, Bells. They can be nasty. I’ll pick you up some pepper spray next time I swing through town.”

“Thanks, dad.” I had had a can of pepper spray back in Phoenix, but you couldn’t take them on airplanes and I hadn’t wanted to not have it for the two weeks after I’d shipped my boxes off, so I had left it for Renee. “I could get it myself if it’ll be a bother for you.”

“It’s my job to keep you safe, Bells,” Charlie grunted, not making eye contact.

We were both saved from further displays of affection by the end of the ad break. I got up to take my dishes to the sink and get out some bowls for ice cream.

Wait, the ice cream. _Oh no!_ The little farmer’s market and odd Alice not-Cullen (Carver? Cooper? Carter? something like that) had driven my errand right out of my mind. I had completely forgotten to stop by the store on my way home from the library.

“I goofed,” I said loudly toward the living room. “No dessert unless Jacob wants to come and pick up some ice cream with me.”

Jacob bounced out of his seat on the couch and grinned at me. “Can do. Who’s driving?”

“I can,” I volunteered. He pouted, and I felt guilty. “Unless you really want to,” I added, trying to make it sound more like part of my original statement and less like a tacked-on afterthought.

“Just kidding, you can drive.” Jacob headed for the door and, with a roll of my eyes, I followed him, wiping my hands dry on my jeans and grabbing my wallet off the counter.

“Shotgun!” Jacob whooped, jumping into the truck with ease.

“I should make you sit in the bed,” I said, hauling myself into the driver’s seat.

“What am I, a dog?” Jacob complained over the earsplitting roar of the truck’s engine turning over.

“Yes,” I laughed. “A Newfoundland puppy. Clumsy and friendly and very large.”

“Woof,” Jacob said. “I’ll think about sticking my head out the window and panting, but I draw the line at being stuck in the bed.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

I pulled out of the driveway carefully and made the short drive to the local little store. Jacob had his door open by the time I made it into a parking spot and was in the store by the time my feet were on the ground. I was laughing at his enthusiasm as I walked through the dimly-lit entrance, only to be confronted by a grinning Jacob holding a gallon tub of off-brand vanilla.

“Quick work.”

“I figured that as long as I was being a puppy I might as well play the part,” he said with a wink, gesturing grandly toward the self-checkout beside him. “It’s scanned and everything, you just need to pay.”

“I knew there was a catch,” I grumbled jokingly, pulling cash out of my wallet as I walked over. “There’s always a catch.”

The machine accepted my bills without complaint and we traipsed out of the store light-heartedly. The drive home was punctuated by Jacob’s bad jokes _("A dyslexic man walks into a bra.")_ and my groans _("Jaaaacooob!")._

As soon as we got home I dished up ice cream for everyone. The game was over by the time we were all finished. Billy and Jacob said their goodbyes and Charlie followed them out to their car, talking animatedly with Billy for another ten minutes before they finally drove away. I watched them through the window as I scrubbed the dinner dishes, smiling at how happy Charlie looked.

I was just finished putting the dishes away when he came back inside. He hugged me goodnight and went off to his room. I stifled a yawn and determined to follow suit as soon as I got the spaghetti into the fridge.

Sleep was not long in coming that night.


	5. Tongue-tied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella talk about vampires and meets Edward!

My day was not going particularly well. I woke up groggy after only five hours of sleep, too late to get a shower or breakfast (and I burned my tongue on the cup of coffee I hoped would help me wake up a little) before hurrying off to school. On my way out of the house, I slipped on the icy porch and landed in an undignified heap at the bottom of the steps. I killed the engine on my truck twice on the drive to school, once just as a stoplight turned green, which resulted in the impatient honks of the three cars behind me.

Things hadn't gotten better once I had arrived (seven minutes late) at my first class of the day. I fell asleep for fifteen minutes in Gov, missing some important test prep for the exam we would be taking on Friday. Maybe, if I was lucky, I could beg notes from Tyler or Ben. In Trig, I had been called on no fewer than three times, and once been unable to answer the question. My stomach was still churning from the mixture of anxiety and embarrassment that always accompanied being singled out in class as I sat in Spanish, stumbling and slurring my way down a list of vocabulary words.

"¿Qué sabes de el contemporáneo arquitectura?" My tongue felt like a wooden block as I pronounced the unfamiliar sounds.

"Nada," my conversation partner—Lauren, who sat with us at lunch sometimes but always ignored me—replied. "¿Qué sabes de estatuas clásicas?"

"Ellos son bonitos."

"Bonitas," she corrected. I sighed and slumped back in my chair, wishing once again that I had taken my two required years of foreign language in Phoenix, which had an excellent French program. Spanish was probably more practical, but at least I could pronounce French words.

Well, there was no use crying over spilt milk. I looked back down at the vocabulary list, mouthing the words to myself and trying to commit them to memory.

I felt like a pardoned criminal when the bell rang during my third clumsy attempt to make conversation in Spanish. I thought Lauren looked relieved to be done with my stilted sentences and frequent mispronunciations, and I couldn't really blame her. I was six months behind the rest of the class, and it showed. I would have to spend extra time going over the material that I had missed.

I swept my belongings into my bag and trudged toward the door, wondering if my day could get any worse. I didn't think so, but it wouldn't do to tempt fate. I apologized silently to any higher powers that might exist and knocked on the doorframe as I passed it.

"Hey, Bella!" Jessica's unmistakably cheerful voice was a welcome distraction from my gloomy thoughts. I slowed my steps until she bounced alongside, grinning up at me with comradely glee.

"Hey, Jessica," I said, briefly resenting her for looking so comfortably warm when I was freezing. I winced at how petty my thoughts were becoming. Maybe it was the fact that I was cooped up in this small town… but no, that was petty too. I forced a smile to my face and hoped that my mood would soon catch up.

"How was your weekend?" she asked, seeming completely unfazed by my lack of enthusiasm. "Mine was great! Mike took me out on a surprise date to this great restaurant in Port Angeles—it's actually called La Belle Italia, which is hilarious and I giggled every time I thought of it because it's almost like a restaurant named after you!—and the food was great and he was too utterly sweet and I don't know how I got so lucky."

I wasn't sure how she'd gotten that much out without so much as a breath or a pause, but it was impressive. As she talked I nodded and tried to make the appropriate facial expressions, but they didn't feel very convincing to me. It took me a minute to realize that she was finished and staring at me expectantly. I smiled vaguely and tried to remember what she had asked at the beginning of her onslaught. How I was doing? What I had been doing?

"Good," I finally answered. That covered most possible questions, and, while not strictly true, was more polite than the truthful version.

"Good how? Did you go anywhere? See anyone?" she pressed, steering me not-so-subtly towards the cafeteria, which I had almost walked right past.

I assumed she was talking about the weekend. "I went to a farmer's market and we had the Blacks—Billy Black and his son, Jacob—over for dinner." That was all, right? It sounded so banal when I said it like that.

"How fun!" Jessica exclaimed, yanking the cafeteria door open and ushering me inside. "Mike and I went for an overnight hike with Connor and some of Mike's friends from work. It got pretty cold, brrr."

I remembered the conversation I had had with Billy and Charlie over the weekend. "You could have been in danger!" I gasped, staring at Jessica with wide eyes. "There was a cougar that attacked some hikers—it's still out there somewhere!"

Odd little Alice Carter had a queer expression as she passed us by, her walk so rhythmic it almost looked like she was dancing to unheard music. She was probably laughing at my citified ways, I reflected ruefully.

"Relax." Jessica was definitely laughing at me, sounding supremely unconcerned. "There were too many of us for even a hungry cougar to be interested in. We were fine, I promise."

I let her pull me through the food line, not entirely convinced but unwilling to press the issue any further. We squeezed in at the usual table, where conversation centered on the two hikers. I ate my veggie burger in silence, not wanting to embarrass myself any further with the fearless local population. Unfortunately for me, my lack of contribution did not go unnoticed.

"You got anything like that down in Phoenix, Bella?" Tyler challenged, with what I suspected was mischief dancing in his dark eyes.

A spirit of fun (or maybe just Jacob's bad influence) must have suddenly possessed me, and I found myself playing along with his light-heartedness. "Oh, sure," I replied, trying to sound breezy. "Worse, even. We've got the _chupacabra_ , when it visits from Mexico."

"What's a chupacabra?" Angela asked with a puzzled frown.

"Oh, it's really scary. It's like, this lizard-dog that hops like a kangaroo and sucks blood from animals and people."

"That's, like, an urban legend though, right?" Lauren asked. It was the first time she'd ever directly spoken to me out of class and I stared at her for a moment, probably looking like a total idiot.

"Um, yes," I finally replied, carefully not rolling my eyes at the obviousness of the response. "We don't actually have vampires in Arizona."

"Oh, right." She looked a little embarrassed and I felt bad for making fun of her, even though it had mostly just been in my head. It wasn't like I hadn't asked any dumb questions about Washington, after all. I smiled tentatively at her, but she tossed her hair and looked away.

_Oh well._ I shrugged to myself as the bell rang and everyone began hustling out of the cafeteria. Not everyone was going to like me all the time, and that was okay. I dragged myself out of my chair, dumped my unfinished veggie burger into the nearest trash can, and slouched my way towards the Biology classroom. My brief spate of high spirits had passed and I was once again feeling moody and dissatisfied. I couldn't help scowling at the flat grey sky that pressed so stiflingly down on me. I missed the vast expanses of desert. Forks was going to make me claustrophobic.

I walked into the classroom and immediately had to stifle a groan. I had been enjoying the freedom of a desk that was all my own, but the elusive Edward Cullen (I assumed it was him, anyway, as I didn't remember his face at all from my one brief glimpse—he had the same features as Esme but on him they looked aristocratic rather than delicate) was lounging comfortably in his previously vacant place.

"Uh, hey," I greeted him uncertainly as I approached. He looked up and smiled and I was momentarily rendered breathless by how _golden_ his eyes were. His lips were moving and I shook myself, trying to catch his words.

"… must be Bella Swan. I'm Edward, Edward Cullen."

"N-nice to meet you," I stammered. What was it about him and his extended and adopted family that removed my ability to form coherent thoughts? Alice and Jasper had left me just as speechless. All the progress I'd made on being comfortable in Forks was flying out the window, my natural shyness reasserting itself at an alarming pace.

"Sorry to leave you partnerless for the week," he apologized smoothly. I realized that I was still standing stiffly by the desk and half-collapsed into my seat as he continued. "I came down with something, knocked me right out."

"That's lame," I sympathized, finding that it was easier to talk to him if I wasn't looking at his face.

"How are you liking Forks so far?" he inquired, sounding as though he was genuinely interested instead of just making small-talk.

"It's… okay," I answered cautiously, leaning back into the seat and trying very hard not to look at him out of the corner of my eye.

He scoffed politely. "That's the least convincing thing I've heard all day. Try again."

"Some things are okay," I clarified, unable to summon irritation at having been caught in a lie. "I have friends here. I… like not getting sunburned."

"Hmm. You do look a little pale for a desert-dweller," he commented, smiling in a way that left my mouth a little dry.

I realized belatedly that I was looking at him again and jerked my attention back to the front of the room, where the teacher seemed to be taking an awfully long time to get the lesson started. "You've seen my father," I laughed, a little shakily. "He makes me look tan."

He laughed along with me, even though it wasn't really that funny. It felt like he was staring at the side of my face, but I couldn't tell for sure without looking at him again. I decided to risk it, and—yes, he was making unabashed eye contact. I was momentarily rendered speechless, my heart racing and my cheeks feeling hot. I was unused to this level of attention from someone who looked as much like a magazine cover as Edward Cullen.

Abruptly he turned his head, leaning away from me and picking up his pencil. Confused, I looked toward the front of the classroom, where nothing appeared to have changed. I looked back at him, only to find him watching me out of the corner of his eyes.

"Mr. Banner is about to start," he predicted. Sure enough, the teacher suddenly had everything in order and began the process of getting everyone's attention and starting the lesson.

I stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of me, trying to muster up the focus to take notes, but there was a very large part of me that wanted to look over and see what Edward Cullen was doing. Is this what people meant when they complained about teenagers and hormones? I'd never personally experienced the phenomenon, but I had read about it. People didn't mention how pleasantly disconcerting it was… or maybe they did, and I'd just never had a frame of reference for it before.

Mr. Banner was saying something about a lab. Oh, right, it was Monday. It had been scheduled for Friday, but apparently not all of the necessary parts had been present, so it had been put off to the next school day. I hadn't been worried about not having a partner, since I had done a similar lab back in Phoenix—which almost felt like cheating, but it wasn't my fault that Forks didn't have an AP Biology class that I could take.

"You'll be using the microscopes—and please be careful with them, they're easily broken—to identify the stages of mitosis in onion root tip cells," he explained. I refrained from zoning out, even though he had gone over the exercise twice the previous week and I was pretty sure I remembered everything. Listening one more time wouldn't hurt.

A microscope and a box of slides were deposited at our table. I slid them into the middle, so that Edward could reach them too. He smiled sideways and gestured toward them with long fingers, which I assumed to be a request that I get things started. I dropped the first slide I picked out of the box, having to scramble madly with shaking fingers to get it off the desk. Was he smirking? My face heated as I inserted the slide into the microscope and peered through the eyepiece, fiddling with the focus until I could see the cells clearly.

"Prophase," I declared confidently, beginning to remove the slide. Edward's hand shot out, stopping just short of my fingers, and I hesitated, looking up to meet his eyes. _Oops. Bad idea._ I couldn't look away from him.

"You seem very sure of yourself," he commented, sounding skeptical.

"I am," I replied. It wasn't a difficult lab even for someone who hadn't done it before.

"You're probably right, but would you mind if I checked? Just to make sure?"

"Go ahead." I shrugged, trying to swallow the annoyance of having my competence questioned. I pushed the microscope toward him, putting on a smile that I didn't really feel.

He looked at me for what felt like forever. I kept the smile pasted on my face, waiting for him to take the microscope. Finally— _finally_ —he glanced away, looking rueful. "No, I believe you. Next slide?"

I almost kept staring at him, surprised I had won so easily, but my sense of self-preservation kicked in and I looked down at the table instead. "You can identify the next one," I offered, pushing the box of slides toward him.

He flashed a crooked smile as he reached for the box, and I found myself wondering if he'd be interested in me if I were half as attractive as he was. Or attractive at all, for that matter. But no, he was way out of my league and my brief flight of fantasy had no place in biology class. In the time it had taken me to chide myself, he had swapped out the slides with perfect ease. He peered into the microscope for a mere instant before pulling back.

"Anaphase."

I itched to dispute it, to prove him wrong, but he was probably just as right as I had been, and just because he had annoyed me was no reason to be rude in return. I managed a vague sort of smile and reached out to pull the microscope back toward me at the same time as he pushed it in my direction, with the end result that it tipped over the edge of the table and fell into my lap.

Well, not quite. His hands shot out unbelievably fast and caught it. My slightly slower reflexes finally caught up and I found myself cradling both his cold hands and the microscope. My cheeks heated and my first instinct was to jerk away, but visions of Mr. Banner scolding me for the loss of valuable equipment danced in my head and I settled for carefully restoring it to the desk, then pulling my hands away as quickly as possible.

"Oops," he apologized, his voice as smooth as his quick save had been.

"Oops," I agreed ruefully, a smile quirking the corner of my mouth almost against my will.

"Nice catch," he complimented me. I squinted at him, uncertain about whether or not he was being sarcastic.

"I'm pretty sure you did all the heavy lifting," I contradicted. "I was just along for the ride."

"I'm sure you would have managed if I hadn't been around," he smiled, making the most direct eye contact we had had so far. Despite the blatant untruthfulness of his statement, I felt a warm little knot in my stomach.

I exaggeratedly looked down at his chair, then back up. One of his eyebrows twitched upward interrogatively and I hid a smirk. "I was checking to see if your pants were on fire."

"Speaking of science, we should probably be doing a little more of that," I said, blatantly changing the subject. I wasn't able to tear my eyes away from his face, so hopefully redirecting him to the task at hand would make him turn his attention to the lab that we were doing instead of me.

It worked. Edward glanced back at the table and I could breathe again. He reached for the third slide and put it into the microscope, then gestured at it. "Your turn," he offered, not pushing anything toward me this time.

"It's… metaphase?" I guessed, after about ten seconds of assessment. If he had already identified anaphase, then this had to be metaphase. Or he had been wrong. That didn't seem likely, though.

"You sound uncertain," he teased gently. I flushed and looked again.

"Metaphase," I stated a second time, trying to sound more confident. It must have succeeded because instead of continuing his teasing, the boy beside me simply handed me the fourth slide. I swapped them out and poked the microscope tentatively toward him.

"It's…" he paused for nearly a full minute and I was rather surprised, given how knowledgeable he had seemed to be up until this point. "Telophase."

"So the last one has to be…" I quickly ran through the list in my head, "interphase, right?"

"Yep, that's all of them," he agreed with a smile.

"Cool." I reached for the paper we were supposed to fill out and began recording the correct answers. It took me a minute to see his hand, still outstretched as he had reached for the paper just too late. "Oh, sorry, did you want to do some?" I proffered the page, three spaces still blank.

"I mean, sure, I guess," he chuckled, accepting the assignment and whipping a pen into existence from somewhere. His writing was elegant and flowy in comparison to my girlishly rounded letters, and I momentarily regretted not letting him do all of the writing… but it was too late for that.

His lips curved gently as I glanced askance at him, and I wondered if he was laughing at me. I wasn't sure why he would be, but he probably was. No, that was nonsense. Why would Edward Cullen, of all people, care enough about me even just to make fun of me? I was just his biology partner. Pshaw. My imagination was playing tricks on me.

Still, as I passed him in the hallway after Gym and again in the parking lot after school, I found myself wondering if I was just imagining the intensity of his eyes.


	6. Interlude: Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward's existence is sometimes monotonous, so anything unusual is either threatening or exciting.

_Three hours and thirteen minutes until I can go home and stop listening. Eleven thousand, five hundred and eighty seconds. Seventy-nine. Seventy-eight. Seventy-seven._

"What do you think of the new girl?" Emmett asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had blanketed our table. I sucked in air, trying to think about anything except the way she moved, the way she smelled, the way she was a fragile creature who would die soon anyway and why not—

"I like her," Alice said loudly. "I see nice things about her."

Jasper touched her hand lightly, his thoughts feathery with affection. "What do you see?"

"She loves her dad very much," the tiniest vampire present informed us. "She's a vegetarian. She likes books."

Rosalie snorted, visions of gushing blood in her head. "I wonder how horrified she would be."

"By our incessant consumption of books?" I kept my face as still and serious as only a vampire could. They didn't need to watch me struggle. "Very, I'm sure."

My blonde sister kicked me under the table, hard enough that I had to brace myself to keep the chair from flying backward. I made wide, innocent eyes at her, aware of Emmett's silent cackles – silent because Rosalie particularly disliked being laughed at.

"Will you… you know, be okay?" Jasper asked. As the usual weakest of the group, he could relate to my current position.

"Certainly." My smile was brittle, and I could hear him picking up on the threads of desire that made me anything but certain.

' _You could ditch again?'_ he thought, for my ears only. _'Nothing wrong with avoiding temptation.'_

No. I had promised myself, I had promised Carlisle, I knew I could be stronger than this. "I'll be fine," I said, knowing my reassurance was meant as much for myself as for anyone else at the table.

"Everyone is talking about the cougar attack." Jasper changed the subject, leaning forward and speaking quietly. "It's pretty clear that… you know." _That was no cougar._ It wasn't the sort of thing we could speak openly about at school.

"It wasn't any of us," Emmett said with a shrug. I had yet to see a situation that could faze him for more than a minute or two.

"No," Rosalie snapped, "which means someone else is hunting in our range." She was fiercely protective of the idea of innocent life. Those she deemed guilty, though, well—she didn't lose any sleep over them.

"What if Calgary happens again?" Alice's voice was anxious. "Isabella Swan just moved in with her dad, she'll be upset if he dies so soon."

"Calgary won't happen again," Jasper promised fiercely, though I could see him smoothing at Alice's worry, dissolving it to gentle concern. "For one thing, I would know if Maria were in the area."

"You didn't last time," Emmett pointed out.

"Last time I didn't have inside information," Jasper gritted. Being reminded of his last encounter with his ex-commander never left him in a pleasant mood. Now Alice was doing the soothing, her tiny fingers rubbing at the back of Jasper's neck.

"— _vampires—_ "

We all stiffened, glancing surreptitiously around the cafeteria to see where the word had come from. The voice was unfamiliar, low and pleasant, with a hint of sarcastic incredulity.

' _Of course vampires aren't real. I'm not stupid, okay! Bella thinks she's so much better than me just because she's new, huh? Bitch.'_

I relaxed. "False alarm. The new girl is swapping urban legends." Jessica Stanley's mind was a reliable source of play-by-play, and I saw Bella through her eyes, animatedly recounting the legend of the chupacabra, one which might be based in reality—although how anyone could mistake one of the immortal undead for a kangaroo-lizard-dog was beyond me. I stifled a snort as I imagined one of my siblings hopping as they hunted.

Everyone became less tense. The odds of a random human knowing something accurate about vampires were extremely slim, but you could never be too careful. Our existence depended upon secrecy and knowing more about those around us than they knew about us.

On that note, I straightened my shoulders and reached toward Bella Swan's mind. It was better that my first view of her thoughts be here, in the constraints of a crowded cafeteria, than in potentially close quarters during Biology. What was the infuriatingly delicious human thinking? It would likely be irritating, perhaps enough to put me off her entirely. Alternately, it might be interesting, in which case I would know to guard myself carefully before sitting near her. Or perhaps I would be intrigued and pleased and loath to cause her any harm, which would give me strength.

I realized that in all my musings on what the contents of her mind might be, I had not actually heard anything from her. My eyebrows furrowed and I settled for a surreptitious glance toward her table. Yes, she was still there, smiling tentatively at Lauren, the girl whose thoughts had been so spiteful. I _listened_ as hard as I could, but still heard nothing. Were her thoughts really so quiet? Perhaps it was a matter of range, or unfamiliarity. I occasionally had difficulty with one human or another, such as the chief of police in town… who was Bella's father. Perhaps some genetic quirk or unknown ability made their thoughts more difficult to decipher.

The mystery that this posed was enough that I began looking forward to Biology, instead of dreading close confinement with the enigmatic Bella Swan.


	7. Slip and Slide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella's least favorite part of Forks, besides everything, is the snow. But hey, what doesn't kill you makes you party to a conspiracy of unimaginable magnitude, or so they say.

It was unusually bright when I opened my eyes on Thursday morning. I panicked, flinging myself out of bed and grasping desperately for my alarm clock. Had I overslept? A bleary glance at the time showed that no, I still had about ten minutes before I absolutely had to be awake. So why all the light? I stumbled to the window and peered out, then let out the most pitiful sound I'd heard from myself in a while.

It was _snowing_.

I'd considered the fact that it did, in fact, snow in Forks sometimes, but I hadn't expected to find myself this unhappy about it. I had spent so much time psyching myself up for the constant rain that I was unprepared for this. I made myself a mental note to try to avoid making assumptions that would come back to bite me in the ass.

I collapsed back onto the bed, draped an arm over my face, and groaned, loudly, for five of the ten minutes. Then I dragged myself up and into the shower, where I probably stayed longer than I should have. I turned the water up as hot as I could stand it, hoping to fortify myself against the cold that was guaranteed to hit me once I walked out the front door. I hadn't lived in a place where it routinely got below freezing in about ten years, and when I was old enough to choose where I lived I would be sticking to the southern half of the United States.

I put on my thickest sweater and wedged a coat on over it, shoved my feet into wool socks under my sneakers, and dug out a pair of mittens and a warm winter hat, before filling my thermos as full of hot tea as I could manage.

If I didn't face the cold soon, I was going to be late. And _ugh_ , I realized, I was going to have to _drive_ in the _snow_.

"Stop being such a baby," I told myself sternly, standing in front of the door. "You're going outside, not to your execution." My body was unconvinced. It took all of my willpower to reach for the knob, turn it, and slowly open the door.

_Brrrrrr._

I slipped and slid several times on my way to the truck. Only a combination of hanging onto everything around me and sheer concentrated willpower kept me on my feet. As I grabbed at the bed of the truck for the umpteenth time, I noticed that all four of the tires were covered with the silver pattern of chains. Charlie must have gotten up early just to make sure that I wouldn't die on the way to school. My throat twisted into a funny little knot—I was used to being the one who took care of people, not the one who was taken care of.

After a minute of basking in gratitude, I realized I was standing stupidly in the cold air when I could be inside a warm truck. It was a relief to my poor frozen extremities when I finally clambered into my truck and started the engine. The air blowing over me was cold for now, but I knew from experience that it heated up very fast once I got underway.

The drive was unusually uneventful. The truck handled better over icy roads than I had expected, and I pulled into the school parking lot with the satisfaction of having avoided all of the nightmare scenarios I had dreamed up while in the shower. I parked, grabbed my bag, and exited the truck, glancing around to see if anyone was present to witness my inevitable humiliation. My side of the parking lot was completely deserted—everyone with any sense had parked closer to the school—save for one old minivan rounding the corner, so I faced forward and marched to my fate.

My feet went out from under me only a few steps into my icy trek towards the school. I screeched like a pterodactyl and tried—only somewhat successfully—not to flail. The world tilted at an alarming angle and then stilled abruptly as I hit the ground with enough oomph to render me breathless for a minute.

"Owwww," I groaned as soon as I was able. It didn't feel like I had broken anything, but I was cold and damp and sore and grumpy. I scrabbled ineffectually at the ground, trying to gain some kind of purchase with which to lever myself back into an upright position. By dint of gripping the wheel rim of the truck and something that felt uncomfortably like doing pull-ups, I managed to get myself back on my feet, and turned back toward the school to resume my trek.

Only, I didn't. Instead, I found myself staring straight into the headlights of a silently skidding car. Tyler's face, framed by the windshield, was frozen in an expression of horror that surely matched my own.

_I'm going to die._

I didn't want to die.

In the span of about a second, I saw Charlie and Renee and Phil and Jackie and Jessica and Edward— _Wait, Edward_? Edward Cullen was standing in front of me, shoving me backward. Dimly I heard the sound of metal and glass crunching and people beginning to scream, but it felt like everything was in slow motion compared to my movement. And then, for the second time in five minutes, I stopped abruptly and lost the ability to breathe.

Beside me, Edward was unwinding his scarf from around his neck and folding it. I struggled to understand the meaning of his actions, but that kind of critical thinking was beyond my grasp. All I could do was stare numbly at where the hood of Tyler's car was crumpled up against my bumper. His airbag had deployed so I could no longer see his expression, though a small, detached part of my brain winced for his surely-broken nose. His windshield had shattered into a cascade of glass that was still falling with little _plink_ sounds. The truck looked surprisingly undamaged.

I was falling again. No, that wasn't right. This was not an uncontrolled descent. Something—some _one_ was carefully lowering me to the ground. My head rested on Edward's discarded scarf. I saw him leaning over me, draping his coat across me. Some part of me wanted to push it away and protest, but I knew it was in my best interests… and I couldn't seem to get my arms to move, anyway.

_I'm not dead._

People were shouting things and hurrying around. I tried to make sense of it all, but it felt like I was trying to watch a foreign movie without subtitles. Then, sirens. An ambulance was pulling into the parking lot.

"… Bella, can you hear me?"

It was like coming up from the bottom of a swimming pool. What I was seeing and hearing came into focus, no longer blurry and confusing. Most pressingly, Edward was leaning over me, concern etched into his forehead. I blinked a few times and tried a small smile. Worry gave way to relief on his face and he backed away as a paramedic bore down on us.

"My name is Meg," she introduced herself. "What's going on here?"

"I'm—I'm—" I stammered, trying to convey that I wasn't hurt. I stopped, frustrated that I couldn't seem to make the words come out, and cast an imploring look at Edward.

"She wasn't directly involved in the crash," he filled in for me. My expression melted into gratitude. "I pushed her out of the way. She shouldn't be injured, but she's had an acute stress reaction."

 _Oh right._ He was a doctor's kid, wasn't he?

"All right, Miss Swan, can you sit up for me?"

I struggled weakly to my elbows, but it took me two tries to get myself into a sitting position and my head swam once I was propped upright.

"Good, good," she said reassuringly, kneeling unflinchingly by my side despite the snow. "I'm going to take your pulse, so just sit still and breathe as normally as you can."

Once she had told me to breathe normally, I realized that I had been panting like a greyhound. I focused on getting it under control and Edward nodded approvingly as I calmed down.

"Your heart is beating pretty fast, but that's understandable given your recent fright. Is this your truck?"

"Y-y-yes." It was like I was a fourteen-year-old at Sadie Hawkins again. My tongue just wouldn't cooperate.

She flicked a flashlight on and held it in front of my face. "Can you follow my finger with your eyes?"

I could.

"Your truck seems pretty sturdy—just like its owner," Meg smiled at me. "I'm going to take your blood pressure now. Just hold still for a minute, okay?"

"O-okay."

"Your blood pressure is high, but I'm not worried about it," she said after a moment. "How are you feeling?"

I took a deep breath, reached deep within myself to the reserves which had made it possible for me to put on a good face for Renee, and smiled my most convincing smile. "I'm feeling pretty okay, for someone who just almost died."

"I want you to drink a lot of water today," Meg suggested. "You're going to be just fine."

She was gone as quickly as she had arrived, and I found myself wishing that I had as much energy as she seemed to have. Then I giggled, struck by the bizarre intrusion of that thought into my current situation. Edward's puzzled face pulled me back into a more serious frame of mind.

"How did you get here so quickly?" I asked, mildly curious. My last memory before the minivan incident had occurred was noting how empty the parking lot was. I felt sure that I would have spotted Edward Cullen if he had been lurking around. As a matter of fact, I was almost certain that his car, with an appropriate number of Cullens surrounding it, had been all the way at the other end of the school.

He turned a look of innocent confusion on me. "It wasn't that far, Bella. I was right over there," he gestured vaguely, "and I've sprinted faster in track and field meets."

I glanced in the direction he had waved towards, squinting suspiciously. There was nothing there now, and there had been nothing there the last time I had looked either. "Are you sure you were over there?" I pressed, my interest piqued. Although his every mannerism screamed of truthfulness, the facts just didn't quite add up, and that made the future journalist in me curious.

He looked frustrated, now, as if he was expecting something that hadn't happened. For an instant I regretted my decision to push, remembering how much it had irritated me when he had questioned my competency during Biology, but his next words completely dispelled any bad feelings I might have had. "I don't know what you're talking about," he nearly snapped. "I was standing right over there." His gesture was more specific now, designed to remove any question about where he had started from, but now I knew for certain that he was claiming to have been in an area that nothing, not even a parked car, had been.

"Nobody was there," I gritted. "I would have seen you if you were." I felt my chin jutting forward like an angry toddler, and tried to keep my expression pleasant.

"You're in shock, Bella," he informed me, and I could hear how hard he was trying to keep his voice calm and rational. "Experiencing confusion and distress is common after a near-death incident."

I paused for a moment, assessing his claim. I didn't feel confused, or distressed, or in shock. Perhaps it hadn't hit me yet. "I know what I saw," I insisted.

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal about this." He was placating now, trying to convince me that nothing had happened, nothing to worry about, I shouldn't concern myself. It only made me more convinced that there was something I should be thinking about, and more determined to figure out what had really happened.

"I don't like being lied to," I hissed, feeling my polite mask starting to slip.

"I don't like being called a liar," he hissed back, and I found myself inching away from him surreptitiously.

"Then you shouldn't tell lies!" I was aware that I sounded like a five-year-old. It was not one of my best comebacks. I shoved his coat and scarf at him, holding them out and refusing to make eye contact until he took them and stalked away without further acknowledgment.

I was _not_ done with this. No way, Jose. I picked myself stiffly up off the ice and slunk toward my first class of the day, now probably half over.

* * *

My English teacher had been forgiving, thankfully, Gov had been just fine—except for Tyler's absence—and Trig had been uneventful. Jessica walked me to the cafeteria as usual, though she seemed rather subdued in comparison with her normal bubbly self. I wasn't social enough to get her to talk, so we waited in line in companionable silence. As we headed toward our table, Alice Carter skipped past me, and I was possessed with a sudden burst of confidence. "Hey, Alice," I called, and she stopped obligingly to smile at me.

"Bella! Hi! I saw the accident, are you okay?" she asked, the words as rapid-fire as I had come to expect from her.

"Yes! I am. I had a weird question for you, though." I crossed my fingers behind my back for luck. "Has Edward ever been in track and field?"

She looked blankly at me. "No, why?"

"Um, no reason." I probably should have come up with a reason for asking, but it had been so spur-of-the-moment that I hadn't. I was not good at spontaneity. "Good talking to you."

"Have a nice lunch!" she tossed over her shoulder, already hurrying away.

"What?" Jessica began, and then shook her head. I breathed a sigh of relief at not being asked to explain myself. I liked to think that Jessica and I were friends, but I wasn't really eager to sound like a crazy person as I laid out my suspicions about why Edward was lying about his ability to… to appear out of thin air. I wasn't sure what else to call it. Teleportation and super-speed were both comic book powers that came to mind, but I couldn't imagine either of them existing in real life.

We had arrived at the table while I had been musing. I sat down in my usual chair, prepared to quietly eat my salad, but suddenly I was the center of attention.

"Wow, Bella," Lauren started, her voice somewhat less caustic than usual, "you almost died. Are you okay?"

"Yes," I replied, less snippily than I would have liked. "As you can see, I have all of my limbs and about a gallon and a half of blood."

"Are you sure about that?" Mike challenged me. "That's an estimate for someone who weighs a hundred and fifty pounds. I think that—"

I ignored the rest of his words and started eating my salad. Around me, people estimated my body weight, argued over the percentage that was likely blood (scientific estimates put it at seven percent, apparently) and then converted it to measures of volume. I appreciated the ability to fade into the background in the aftermath of the accident. The next time I looked up, Mike winked at me, and I marveled at the way he had so quickly sidetracked everyone into a science fight.

"I'm glad you're okay," Jessica said suddenly. "Tyler's still in the hospital."

"How is he doing, do you know?" I asked, grateful for the snippet of information. It wasn't my fault that he had been injured, of course, but I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty all the same.

"His sister says he has a broken nose, broken wrist, concussion, and possible internal bleeding."

I wasn't sure if I had ever met Tyler's sister. I definitely didn't remember anyone who had been introduced to me as his sister. "I hope there isn't anything more serious. Tell her I'm thinking lots of good thoughts for him?"

"Will do," Jessica smiled at me. Her usual good nature seemed to be reasserting itself. I smiled back as the bell rang and chaos erupted around us. I dragged my feet on my way to Biology, not eager to sit next to Edward after our argument. He was already in his seat by the time I arrived, but as I sat down he pointedly leaned away from me, his sharp chin pointed stubbornly in the opposite direction. I balled up my hands into small fists, fighting the urge to demand what his problem was. I already knew the answer, though. _I_ was his problem, and I had no intention of letting that change. One way or another I was going to find out what in the _world_ was going on with Edward Cullen.


	8. Secrets and Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who goes to a beach in January?! Bella wants answers (about more than just that), but nobody seems to be forthcoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I managed to skip this chapter in the original posting! Hopefully everything should be ironed out by now.

"Hey, Bella, do you want to go to the beach tomorrow?"

Those were not words I had expected to hear during my time in Forks, let alone on a Friday night in January. I stared at my phone, momentarily speechless. Beaches were something you did in nice weather, right? The snow hadn't even completely melted yet. What was the point of a beach?

"Bella?" My long silence must have worried Jessica. She had asked me several times throughout the day if I was sure I didn't have a concussion, was I really okay, shouldn't I go to the doctor just to be safe. I had put on my most convincing smile and assured her that her fears were baseless and I was just fine, but my continued distraction by the mystery of how exactly Edward Cullen had just teleported across the parking lot with no warning specifically to save my life probably hadn't helped my case.

"I'm fine, just thinking about it," I reassured her. "Who's going?"

"Oh! Me and Mike, Lauren, Angela, Eric, Conner, Ashley, Whitney, Lee, Austin, Samantha, and Rob so far. Tyler was going to come but then the accident happened so we were going to postpone it for him but he said to go ahead and do it anyway and he'd come along the next time we do it and we'd really love for you to come too."

Just listening to her rattle off so many words in a row without a pause made me feel out of breath. I paused, weighed the options, and then made the stupid decision.

"Of course, I'll go. Are we carpooling?"

"Yes!" Jessica sounded inordinately thrilled about my participation. "We're meeting up at the Newton's store at ten. It's about half an hour from there. Oh my gosh, it's going to be so much fun! The forecast says it's supposed to be rain so wear something waterproof."

"I will," I agreed, already regretting all of my life choices. "It'll be great."

"Eek! I can't wait! See you at ten!"

"The problem with Jessica," I remarked to myself after she hung up, "is that she uses too many exclamation points when she talks." It was charming, but occasionally grating—especially when the topic of conversation was something that shouldn't be exclaimed about, except perhaps in the sense of _are you crazy?! It's January! Why would you go to the beach?!_

That night I dreamed I was drowning in an endless sea of fog and rain. Somewhere behind me, Edward Cullen stood, his arms still crossed and his eyes still narrowed. Every time I turned to talk to him, he disappeared as quickly as he came.

* * *

Jessica grinned brightly at me as I climbed out of the truck. "We're going to have so much fun!" she exclaimed. Her enthusiasm was entirely misplaced, in my opinion. Nobody should be that excited about a trip to a freezing cold beach.

We waited for a couple more people to arrive, then squeezed ourselves into Conner's mother's twelve passenger van, which was apparently a thing that existed. I couldn't remember ever having seen anything other than a bus that seated more than eight people, but Conner said he had seven brothers and sisters. That seemed like an unnecessarily large number, but who was I to judge a woman for her presumably free and informed life choices? It wasn't like I was doing so well with my own life. Between the thirteen of us, the bags of gear, and the three very long surfboards strapped to the roof, it was a tight fit.

The mood was raucous, but not overly so. Mike tried to lead the car in a rousing rendition of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on The Wall," but Jessica wrestled him down and kissed him quiet, which he was more than happy to allow. Eric mimed throwing up from the floor where he sprawled between the driver and passenger seats. Lauren's only conversation topic was how excited she was for the next episode of _Gilmore Girls_ , which was apparently coming out soon. Rob scoffed and said that he couldn't understand why shows like that were still running when _Firefly_ was cancelled after only one season and _Twin Peaks_ only made it for two. He and Angela argued over whether either franchise would ever be rebooted—they were divided on whether or not the upcoming movie based off the _Firefly_ franchise should count. Somehow that led into a conversation about what each of us would do if we could read minds. Austin smirked and implied that he would be untroubled by ethical considerations. Lee talked about the possibilities for law enforcement, only looking pointedly at Austin once or twice. Mike asked for clarification about who the mind-reading would work on—animals, for example—and the conversation derailed into a philosophical discussion about animal cognition before I could mumble something about journalistic standards.

Something in the back of my mind reminded me that I couldn't expect to be a field reporter if I was barely able to maintain a conversation with friends, but I shut it down with the ease of long practice. I was working on stepping out of my comfort zone. It would come, with time.

The beach was every bit as cold as you would expect a beach in Washington to be during January. It hadn't rained yet, and while I was grateful for the small concession nature seemed to be making for me, I also wished it would just get it over with so I could be miserable instead of just anticipating misery. I climbed out of the van reluctantly, eying Jessica, Angela, and Mike as they hurried toward the waves, surfboards in tow. Eric jumped down next to me and shot me an understanding look.

"I love going to the beach," he said, "but they're just crazy. I surfed once and that was enough for me."

"It was a thing in Tampa," I agreed, "but I never got into it. Too much balance required for me to be able to handle it." Also, I was fourteen and nothing in the entire world would have induced me into a swim suit in public.

Eric's smile was knowing, and I blushed as I remembered tripping and catching myself on the edge of my desk in English on Wednesday. I mumbled an excuse and extricated myself from the conversation, ending up near Lee and Ashley as they stacked small logs in a makeshift circle of beach rocks. I stood there, wrapped in my own thoughts, while they got a fire going and Samantha produced a bag of s'more supplies from the van.

"Do you want one?"

I looked up, startled out of my reverie. Rob was holding out a pointed stick with a marshmallow on it.

"Oh, uh, sure," I said, taking it from him awkwardly. "I've never done this before, though."

"The trick is to set your marshmallow on fire and then eat it before all the sugar burns away," he said with a straight face.

"Shut up, Rob," Eric interrupted from his seat by the fire. "Bella, just hold it near the fire but out of the smoke. It'll turn GBD in a couple of minutes."

I smiled timidly and edged closer to the heat, trying to find a spot for roasting that was close but not too close. I wasn't afraid of fire but the idea of holding a flaming stick didn't overly appeal to me.

"Closer," Ashley said encouragingly. "Don't worry, if it falls off there's plenty more to replace it." She and Samantha shared a smile.

I inched the stick closer. It promptly caught on fire and I dropped it with a squeak.

"No harm done," Samantha said, handing me another stick with another marshmallow. "It takes practice to roast a perfect marshmallow."

I smiled vaguely, wondering how many tries it would take me to get a single s'more. The odds were not in my favor.

"Why don't you let me handle that?" a voice from behind me asked. "Handing Bella something that pointy is just asking for a disaster."

I spun around, both insulted and delighted. Jacob stood there, grinning brightly. A couple of other Quileutes stood behind him, but none that I could put a name to. As I stood, uncertain of how to respond, he strode forward and offered one hand imperatively.

"If I don't do it myself I'll never learn how," I protested, pulling the stick away from him. The marshmallow caught on fire again, but this time I yanked it out and blew on it before much damage had been done.

"Looks like a great s'more to me," Ashley reassured me, holding out half a graham cracker with a piece of chocolate on top. "Put 'er there."

I was confused, but did as instructed. She clapped another half cracker on top, pulled the whole thing backward, and we ended up with one s'more and one slightly sticky stick between us. She deftly traded objects with me and all in a moment I found myself holding the fruits of my labor.

It was _delicious_. I scarfed the whole thing down in two bites while Lee whistled and clapped.

"Oh my god, that's _so_ good," I enthused. I hadn't been expecting to find anything particularly enjoyable about this trip, but it appeared that my doom-and-gloom had been inaccurate.

"Have you never had a s'more before?" Samantha asked, sounding a little shocked.

I blushed. Living in apartments with a hard-working single mom hadn't been conducive to going places or building fires, and the only thing Charlie cooked over fires was fish.

"I know for a fact that you've never eaten sushi before," Eric countered Samantha on my behalf, and I shot him a grateful look.

She made a face. "Raw fish isn't my idea of good food."

"You never know until you try," Rob said. "I thought I hated broccoli until I turned ten and—"

Samantha threw a marshmallow at him. He caught it neatly in his mouth and made a defiant face. "I won't be silenced so easily!"

We were all laughing as the other non-surfing group walked up. Connor and Eric bumped fists gently while Whitney grabbed a s'more stick of her own.

"Can we burn some driftwood?" Lauren asked plaintively. "The colors are prettier."

Jacob snorted, even though the fire was not his. "Driftwood fires are for tourists."

"What he said." Rob pointed at Jacob with double finger-guns. Jacob pointed back, and they shared a brief moment of camaraderie.

"Whatever." Lauren rolled her eyes and flopped down on one of the logs by the fire. Austin and Connor briefly jostled for position next to her.

Jessica came up just then, a thick towel wrapped around her wetsuit. "The surf's great!" she said brightly. "Anyone wanna borrow my board and try it out?"

I carefully avoided eye contact, fearing that she might push me to be adventurous, but Samantha saved me.

"I'll give it a shot," the tall girl volunteered. "I've gone a few times before."

"All yours!" Jessica gestured to where her surfboard leaned up against the van. "Don't eat it!"

Samantha jogged away and Jessica crowded up to the fire, tucking the towel under her arms and holding her hands out toward the warmth.

"Bella," Lauren called across the fire, "is it true you called Edward Cullen an asshole after he saved your life?"

Suddenly I was the center of attention. I grimaced, wishing the ground would suddenly turn into quicksand and swallow me whole.

"First things first," Jacob said, " _saved your life_? What's that about?"

He apparently hadn't heard it from Charlie, which surprised me. I had been under the impression that Charlie and Billy talked about nearly everything.

"Just a little car accident," I said quietly. "Tyler's car was skidding on the ice and he pulled me out of the way." I hated giving him that much credit, seeing as how rude he had been afterward. "And I didn't call him an asshole." _Just a liar._

"Aww, then maybe I should have invited him on this trip. I only didn't because I didn't want it to be _weird_ for you two," Lauren simpered. I discovered that I was grinding my teeth.

"The Cullens don't come to the beach anyway," Jacob's tall friend said flatly. It was just a statement of fact, no more and no less, but it piqued my curiosity.

"Why not?" Jessica asked, also sounding curious. "Aren't they super into outdoorsy stuff?"

"Sam," Jacob said, "weren't you going to see Leah?" I imagined that I could hear a note of warning? wariness? in his voice.

Sam bristled, ever so slightly, but then nodded. "You know, I was just on my way out. Quil, you coming?"

The third member of their trio agreed hastily and they headed off.

"Sorry about that," Jacob said. "Sam has this theory that Midwesterners are all secretly afraid of the ocean, since they didn't grow up around it."

He was lying. I wasn't quite sure how I could tell, but I was absolutely certain of it. I could practically feel my ears perking.

Jessica laughed. "My family is from the Midwest and, as you can tell, I'm not bothered in the slightest."

Jacob smiled, but I was positive that he was faking it. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

That was it. I was going to find out why he was lying if it was the last thing I did. Of course, when people said that in movies, it usually was the last thing that they did. Oh well.

"Hey, Jacob, want to go for a walk?" I asked, trying to be subtle. He didn't seem to notice any ulterior motives, though, as he nodded agreeably and we slipped away from the fire together. I immediately regretted it, since the temperature away from the fire was absolutely miserable and we were surrounded by wind and fog.

We walked in silence for a few minutes while I tried to think of a way to get the information I wanted. If this were a movie, the heroine would be using her feminine wiles and luring the unsuspecting male into doing whatever she wanted. That wasn't an option for me, though.

"Does Sam know the Cullens?" I asked first, testing the waters.

Jacob looked surprised. "I don't think anyone on the rez knows them. We try to stay away from the hospital when Dr. Cullen is on shift—" he stopped suddenly, as though he had already said too much. "Don't tell Charlie about that, though," he added.

"Why not? If they're… a problem… wouldn't he be the person to talk to?" I asked, trying not to sound too pushy.

Jacob huffed. "It's tribal stuff, so I don't expect you to understand this, Bella, but the Cullens are bad news."

"But _why_?" I pressed. "Are they really racist? Do they have plans to gentrify the city? Are they performing illegal experiments on hospital patients? Are they secretly warlocks?"

Jacob looked like he was trying not to smile for a minute, but then the smile won. "Something like that," he said, then continued as I tried to respond. "No, no, Bella, this isn't any of your business and you shouldn't worry about it."

I narrowed my eyes. There was no more effective way to tempt me to pursue this issue further. "Watch me."

"Promise me," and Jacob's voice was strangely urgent, "that you won't say anything to Charlie."

"I can't promise that!" I protested. "If they're bad people, he needs to know!"

"Just… just don't mention this to him," he pleaded. "It's not that kind of thing."

"If you would tell me what kind of thing it was, we wouldn't be having this conversation," I hissed back.

He threw up his hands. "Bella, you're impossible."

I was tired of boys lying to me for indeterminate reasons. "I don't think that's the issue here."

"Just… god. Bella, please leave this alone."

"Fine," I spat. If they could lie, I could do it too. "Whatever." Now I sounded like Lauren.

He studied my face, his expression uncertain. "Bella," he began, but I didn't want to hear it.

"I'm going back to the fire," I said, then turned away without waiting to see if he was following.

The rest of the trip was exactly as bad as I had expected. That night, I lay in bed and promised myself that I would never go to the beach again.


	9. Girl Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella needs some time away from irritating boys.

I woke up late on Sunday morning, stiff and tired from the beach trip. My mood was in the same shape as my body—I was mad at Lauren, mad at Edward, and—most of all—mad at Jacob. Lauren and Edward were strangers who couldn't be held to any kind of standard, but Jacob was my _friend_ , and I couldn't believe that he had stonewalled me like that. I toyed with the idea of calling him and unleashing further righteous indignation, but decided against it. Conflict was still something that I avoided at all costs.

My annoyance did not wane as I composed a breezy email full of short anecdotes and inside jokes to Renee, nor as I hunted for the sunniest spot in the house to put my cactus, and it was definitely still present as I menu-planned and put together grocery lists for the upcoming week. When I found myself deep-cleaning the kitchen until my hands were raw, I chuckled and made myself lighten up a little. Angry cleaning was usually a sign that I needed to stop brooding and start acting. Charlie was out fishing, but I resolved that as soon as he returned and the opportunity presented itself, I would subtly pump him for answers.

With that off my mind, I cheerfully pitched into my homework, tackling even trigonometry with good will and vigor. I raced through my essay about prominent women in the history of the US government, read my biology textbook dutifully, and took notes about how Frederick Douglass's orations had influenced (or not) Lincoln's strategic decision to emancipate slaves in slaveholding states.

By the time I heard Charlie's cruiser pull up into the driveway I had almost worked myself out of my misgivings, but they returned as he slammed the door shut behind him. _Something_ was going on and it was up to me to figure it out. I pictured myself as Nancy Drew, determinedly sleuthing away and only occasionally being kidnapped and nearly murdered, but always rescued in the nick of time.

I waited while Charlie tucked his catch neatly in the freezer, while he made himself a cup of coffee, and while he opened up the Sunday newspaper and settled himself at the table. As soon as he was comfortable, I sauntered into the kitchen and went through the motions of making tea.

"Hey dad," I began cautiously, my eyes on the not-yet-boiling pot of water, "what do you know about the Cullens?"

I wasn't supposed to be asking. Jake had been very clear on how important it was to him that I pretend that there was absolutely nothing unusual in any way about the doctor and his family. But how was I supposed to become a journalist if a tiny amount of pressure pushed me into burying a story? No, that wasn't the real reason. I knew, deep down, that I was pursuing this more out of sheer stubbornness and spite than any other reason. Two boys lying to my face in the same week had piqued me, and I was out for justice.

Charlie frowned absently. "Nice family," he said. I waited for more, then realized that he was done.

"They do a lot of outdoorsy stuff, don't they?" I pressed, choosing a mild and uncontroversial subject.

"I guess they do," he agreed.

I held my breath, then hurtled headfirst into danger. "Jacob doesn't seem to like them very much."

Charlie's frown became less absent. "Did he say something about them to you?" he asked, eyebrows drawing together as he looked up from his newspaper.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter, trying to seem casual. "He just… mentioned that he didn't like them." That was mostly true.

Charlie blew out a big breath and glanced down at his coffee. "I told Billy that he should be less superstitious," he grumbled. "The tribal council has gotten it into the youngsters' heads that Dr. Cullen is bad luck."

I thought about this for a minute. 'Bad luck' seemed a little milder than Jacob's deep unease with the very subject suggested. "Did he say why?"

"Nope." As if to decisively end the conversation, Charlie went back to his newspaper.

I waited another minute, to see if he had anything else to add, but when silence prevailed I poured my tea, left the kitchen and wandered upstairs to find something to read. Nothing jumped out at me, so I picked a perennial favorite— _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_ —and tried to distract myself.

It didn't work. I found myself irritated that Harry, an eleven-year-old, had more success in figuring out secrets in a world that was completely alien to him than I was having in the entirely mundane locale of Forks. Sure, it turned out that he'd been chasing the wrong guy the whole time, but at least he was right about what was really going on. Then I felt guilty about feeling irritated at a fictional character for my own shortcomings. Then I felt resentful for feeling guilty about…

I put the book down gently, to avoid hurling it across the room, and decided to call Jessica.

"Hey girl, what's up?"

I felt oddly cheered up already. "Want to go bowling?"

"One sec," she said. I waited while her muffled voice had a brief conversation with someone else. "You want some girl time or just some fun?"

I hadn't expected a choice like that. "Uh," I fumbled, unsure of what the right answer was, "girl time? If that's okay?"

"Of course!" Jessica replied, as brightly as always. "Do you want Angela and Samantha to be there?"

 _So many decisions_ , I groaned to myself, but I couldn't help but be touched by how thoughtful my friend was being. "I wouldn't mind if they came."

"Sunset Lanes in half an hour, then?"

"Sounds perfect." As always, I was anxious about the social interaction, but somehow it seemed like it might be exactly the right thing for me in this situation.

* * *

Thirty minutes later I pulled up to the bowling alley. Only a few lights were on, but Jessica was standing in the doorway and bouncing up and down. I hurried over and she engulfed me in a hug that seemed entirely too large for her small frame to manage.

"It's usually closed on Sundays but Sam works here so she turned on a couple things for us," she explained, ushering me inside. Angela smiled from where she was tugging on a pair of bowling shoes. Samantha waved lazily from her seat in front of the one lit lane.

I waved shyly back, surprised by how pleased I felt to be seeing the girls. I had never really been a people person, but maybe that had been for a lack of people to be around. I was willing to try a new version of me.

"How good are you at bowling?" Samantha asked, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.

"Um." On a scale of one to ten, I was a negative three. "Not very?"

"That's fine," Angela said, propping herself up on one knee. "I'm not very good either." She made what seemed to me like pointed eye contact with Jessica.

"Me neither!" Jessica announced perkily and, to my ears, unconvincingly. Edward and Jacob were making me paranoid. "I'm not in danger of dying so I don't try very hard." Okay, I could believe that.

"If you don't bowl a 280 once a month they fire you," Samantha said with such a straight face that I wasn't sure if she was joking or not. Then her mouth twitched and Jessica dissolved into laughter. I found myself smiling tentatively, enjoying the camaraderie. I forced myself to relax. There were no secrets to untangle here.

Angela picked up a ball, tested its weight, and then threw it straight into the gutter. It rolled slowly down while Samantha whistled derisively and punched Angela gently in the shoulder. "Better luck next time."

"Your turn, Bella," Jessica ordered sweetly. I made a martyred face but picked out a ball, hefted it, and sent it spinning toward the pins. It knocked the two on the farthest edge down and Angela clapped for me.

Nobody was shocked when Samantha won, but what was surprising was that I got second, with a (for me) respectable 115 points. Jessica whooped when I knocked over a personal best of four pins on my last throw and I couldn't help but feel a little satisfied.

"Go again or get dinner?" Samantha asked. Jessica and Angela voted for dinner, so I agreed with them. Samantha shut everything down and locked the bowling alley up and we piled into our respective vehicles to head to the best diner in town, a place I had often been to with Charlie throughout my limited stays in Forks. Once I arrived, the host steered me toward the table where the other girls sat, and I joined them without fanfare. I didn't even need to look at the menu to know what I would be ordering. "I'll have a pasta primavera without chicken or shrimp, please."

The waitress smiled at me, and I smiled back. "Hi, Cora. How's Waylon doing?" I asked.

"He's fine," Cora said in her pleasant, soft voice. "Just bought a new—well, an old—boat to fix up. Tell Charlie we say hi."

The other girls made their orders and we settled down into comfortable silence. Samantha smiled at her phone. Angela stared into her drink. Jessica was quiet, which meant she was probably setting some personal record for fewest number of words uttered per minute. The silence around the table didn't feel uncomfortable, though. It was rather friendly.

Cora returned with our drinks at the spell was broken.

"How did you do on the quiz on Friday?" Samantha asked Angela. The tall girl made a face and gestured fluidly with one hand, and Samantha accepted it as a response.

"Oh Sam," Jessica said with as much enthusiasm as if she'd been waiting to ask the question all night, "who did you ask to the dance?"

Sam grimaced. "I haven't yet, I forgot that it was coming up."

"Rob doesn't have a date yet," Angela contributed, unable to maintain a serious expression for even a second before she burst out laughing. Jessica giggled along and Sam rolled her eyes tolerantly. I stared at my Coke, feeling suddenly awkward and out of place.

"Hey, Bella, what about you? Do you have a date for the Sadie Hawkins?" Jessica asked, seeming to pick up on my discomfort.

"I wasn't aware that there was a Sadie Hawkins," I replied. It wasn't the entire truth—I had picked up chatter here and there, but had actively tuned it out because I wasn't interested in dancing.

"Why don't you invite Edward Cullen?" Samantha was clearly joking, but I still cringed. I didn't want my feud with the antagonistic boy to become a running joke.

"He wouldn't say yes anyway," Jessica chuckled. "Nobody that good-looking is straight."

"Not _everyone_ who's cute is gay," Angela said, sounding slightly wistful. "The rest of the Cullens are in straight relationships."

"Yeah," Samantha sighed. "it's too bad… I'd do any of them."

"They all feel like my type, even the ones who aren't," Jessica agreed. "Never tell Mike that I said that, though."

"There's something weird about dating family, even if they're only related by marriage, though," Samantha commented, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"I don't plan on moving in with Mike for a few years yet." Jessica snickered softly.

"Hey, you _have_ a partner," Angela complained. "Some of us are still single."

Jessica punched Angela gently in the shoulder. "At least I'm guaranteed a date to the dance. Angela, did you ask anyone?"

Angela shook her head. "No date, but I'll still show up."

"Bella, you should come too!" Jessica exclaimed, as though she'd just had the best idea in the entire world. "We'll all dance with you, it'll be fun!"

I made a skeptical face. "I don't enjoy crowds, or loud music, or dancing."

She pulled a face, but conceded. "Will you come dress shopping with me, at least? You can tell me all about what's popular in Phoenix."

I doubted that I would be at all helpful in picking out a dress for a dance, but I nodded anyway. I liked hanging out with Jessica and I appreciated that she wasn't pushing me to attend the dance after I had said no. "Who else will be there?"

"Just me and Angela."

"I can't make it," Samantha explained. "My peak hours are their time off."

"Oh, okay." I swirled my Coke and took a sip. "When and where?"

"We're headed out to Port Angeles on Friday after school," Angel answered.

Cora arrived with our meals before I had a chance to respond, and silence fell as we enjoyed the diner's good food.

* * *

The house was dark when I pulled into the driveway, all the lights off except the one over the porch. Charlie's cruiser wasn't in front of the house, so I assumed that he was out for the night, probably over at the Blacks' house. I thought back to my earlier conversation with him and hoped that he wouldn't mention it to the Blacks. If Jacob knew that I was still pursuing the issue, he might be angry.

I let myself in and headed straight upstairs to my room, where I flung myself on the bed and let out a deep, gusty sigh.

The girls didn't find anything off about Edward Cullen, except for his unusual family arrangement and his lack of girlfriends. I wondered about that for a minute, but put it out of my head.

I groaned and rolled over. _If I spent as much time thinking about my schoolwork as I did about Edward Cullen_ … well, it wasn't like my grades had dropped. Come to think of it, wasn't that normally something that people said when they were head-over-heels infatuated? I chuckled at the thought. Not madly in love, just mad.

I heard the door downstairs open. "Dad?" I called.

"Yeah, Bells," he called back. "Don't come down, I'm headed straight for bed."

He sounded tired, or maybe sad. I thought about coming down anyway to lend my support but shied away from the idea. Unlike the dynamic between myself and Renee, my relationship with Charlie was built on mutual stoicism. We did nice things for each other without making a fuss or even talking about it.

I looked at the alarm clock beside the bed. It was getting late, and tomorrow was a school day. There was no point in letting irritating boys keep me from a good night's sleep, so I turned off the lamp and closed my eyes.

Sleep was a long time in coming.


	10. Dear Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella's diary, the week of January 23.

_Monday_

Dear diary,

Edward _fucking_ Cullen.

Which is all I have to say on that subject.

Today happened. Tyler made everyone sign his cast, even me. He also apologized about a thousand times. It almost makes me wish that he had broken his jaw so that he couldn't talk.

No, that's mean. That's really mean and I'm sorry. The attention is just overwhelming. I wish he would take my forgiveness at face value instead of continuing to apologize and offering to make it up to me. I'm fine, my truck is fine, he's the one who came out of the accident worse for wear.

I guess it's ironic that born-and-bred northwesterner Tyler was the one who caused an ice-related accident, instead of my southwestern self. Somewhere the universe is having a good chuckle.

Mr. Varner assigns too much homework, in my humble opinion. This may be because I already have a burning hatred for anything and everything related to Trig, but I honestly don't see how describing the lengths and angles of various triangles with trigonometric relationships is supposed to help me with anything I might run into in the real world. If I were going to be an engineer, sure, but journalism doesn't involve that much advanced math, as far as I am aware. If it did, I probably wouldn't be nearly as interested in it as a career, if I'm being entirely honest.

No, you know what, I do have more to say about Edward Cullen. He's pretending that I don't exist. He's not even being subtle about it. It's _annoying_. I'm used to being a nonentity, but nobody has taken it quite so far before. I asked him a question about biology, and I was _perfectly nice_ about it, even though he was such a dick to me on Thursday, and he just kept staring into space like I hadn't even spoken.

He's hiding something. I _know_ he is. There's no other explanation for it. He thinks that ignoring me is going to make me go away. Maybe I should. I should ignore him. I shouldn't deign to give him any attention after the way he's treated me. I could ask Mr. Banner to change seats in Biology. I could pretend that _he_ doesn't exist.

No, that would make me just as childish as he's being. But maybe I should just leave it all alone.

* * *

_Tuesday_

Dear diary,

Tonight I watched some of the Lord of the Rings trilogy on cable while doing my homework. Charlie didn't complain even once, he just watched it along with me. I know he didn't understand most of it but it was still nice to hang out with him.

I feel bad about goofing off, but all work and no play… or whatever. I needed some time to relax and stop thinking about school and… people. Getting angry about the way that Arwen called down the flood in the Ford of Bruinen instead of Elrond, the _holder of Nenya_ —but I don't need to convince myself. Anyway, getting angry about things I feel like the movie adaptations could have handled better is a lot better than getting angry about things that are happening in my life.

I called Renee after I finished my homework and we had a nice chat before she had to go to bed. She's so ridiculously happy about Phil – she tries not to say so, but it leaks out around the edges. I'm really glad for her. I really think that Phil has made her a better person… I mean, not that she wasn't a good person before. But he brings out the best in her, and I think she's a good influence on him too. I don't really think about who I'll end up with someday, but I hope our relationship is like that. I'd like to date someone who makes me the best version of myself.

I've eaten pasta three days in a row. I need to buy more veggies, so it's lucky that the farmer's market will be around this week. I'll have to look for freezable things, I guess. Do Brussels sprouts freeze well? I should find out. I need a shopping list.I saw a really good recipe for a sweet potato scramble that had mushrooms and squash and beets. Being a vegetarian is fun!

* * *

_Wednesday_

Dear diary,

Jackie called today. I was really happy to hear from her. Neither of us are the type to really reach out all that much, but I miss her. We talked about the boy she wants to date and the book she's reading for English and she helped me with my Spanish and I helped her with her Biology. I didn't complain to her about Forks more than once or twice, although I did mention my near death experience. I especially didn't mention a certain someone.

I miss Jackie. I miss Phoenix. I mean, I remember all the reasons that it sucks – it's too hot, it's too crowded, it's…

But I miss it. I was a nonentity, but at least nobody hated me. God, that sounds so selfish. I'm miserable in a perfectly good town just because one stupid person. No, I'm not miserable. I'm just being dramatic. Edward Cullen brings out the tragic stage actress in me. What is it about him? No, I'm fixating and I need to stop.

I'm writing a book report about _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. I'm not even cheating by basing it on the movie (but I totally checked it out from the library and watched it anyway. Audrey Hepburn is a great actress and I love her)! I like the theme of slowly getting to know someone who is a lot deeper than they seem. People like Renee wear their heart on their sleeve and you always know what you're going to get from them, but sometimes you want… more. Maybe that's why she didn't work out with Charlie. He seems like the kind of guy who wants more, although you wouldn't know it to look at him. If I write about this for even another second, somebody is going to end up creeping back in and I don't want that, so I'm going to go lie on my bed and listen to something mind-numbingly loud.

* * *

_Thursday_

Dear diary,

Fuck it. If _that boy_ pointedly ignores me one more time, I'm going to scream. Or punch him (no, I won't punch him). Or ask Mr. Banner for a seat-change. Jake won't text me back and Billy won't text Charlie back and it's making both of us miserable. Not that we'd say so in so many words. He's cleaning and organizing his (clean, organized) fishing kit with the kind of intensity that stems from deep emotional disturbance, and I'm cleaning and organizing my (clean, organized) kitchen with the same kind of intensity, and both of us are pretending that everything is fine. It's fine. Everything is fine.

I'm cooking an easily-reheatable meal for Charlie's dinner tomorrow night because I'll be going dress shopping with Jessica and Angela. It's not that he can't cook for himself (he's actually very good at it), but feeding people makes me feel better and he might not think of eating if he's still polishing his fishhooks or whatever is going on in the other room. Anyway, shopping. That's something to take my mind off of my unreasonable fixation on a certain person. Lauren didn't bother me this much when she was making catty remarks, so why am I reacting so badly to this? Maybe because I've never been hated before. Tolerated, neglected, and disliked, sure, but never… _hated_. Is this what being a hard-hitting journalist will feel like? I don't think I like it. _Anyway, shopping_. I've never gone dress-shopping before. I hope I have fun. But Jessica and Angela are nice, so I probably will.

(It's definitely not fine.)


	11. Action Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella is expecting dress shopping to be a drag, but she didn't plan on being nearly murdered by a librarian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally skipped a chapter when uploading; please go back and read chapter 8, "Secrets and Lies," to get the story of how Bella went to a beach and tried to get answers from Jacob. Content note for a creepy almost-murderer in this chapter, if threats/implications of violence/sexual violence are a problem for you, consider skipping the third section and picking up in the next chapter.

Edward Cullen wasn't in Biology on Friday. In theory, that should have made me feel great, since his brooding presence and very intentional cold shoulder made me angrier than I had any right to be. In reality, it left me on-edge and irritated. I just couldn't win.

But I refused to let him ruin a perfectly good outing with Jessica and Angela. I put all irritating boys far in the back of my mind on the drive over to Jessica's house, where we were meeting to carpool out to Port Angeles. I had a printout with the address of the Port Angeles library (which was having a used book sale that I wanted to check out) in my bag, along with dry snacks, a bottle of water, and the pepper spray that Charlie had bought me. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I was prepared.

Jessica talked about everything from homework ("I haven't even looked at my vocab for this week! Angela, how do you say "I'm so screwed" in Spanish?") to the upcoming ISS assembly flight ("It's the first Return to Flight mission since the accident in 2003! All of my fingers are crossed."). Angela responded occasionally and intelligently. I tried to listen but kept getting distracted by my own thoughts, like _Why don't the Cullens go to the beach?_ and _I hope Charlie remembers to reheat his meatloaf_.

"Are you still going on that hike next weekend?" Angela asked, during a lull in conversation.

"No," Jessica answered. "Mike's dad doesn't want us to go out again until they find that cougar."

"I thought groups were safe?" I asked, thinking back to a previous conversation.

"Waylon—you know, Cora's husband—and one of his friends were found dead down by the docks yesterday morning," Jessica said, her normally-exuberant voice subdued. "That's four dead this month. Even though large groups are probably safe, his parents don't want us to take any risks."

"Oh god," I said, realizing with shock how self-absorbed I had been for the last week. Was this part of why Charlie had been so on edge lately? "I hadn't heard."

"They're going to do an assembly about wild animal safety next week," Angela said. Her mother was a teacher, I belatedly remembered. "I think your dad is helping with it, actually, Bella."

"Cool," I said, reminding myself to ask Charlie about it when I got home and surreptitiously fingering my pepper spray. The fact that I spent all of my time indoors would make me an unlikely victim, but my luck had never been particularly great. Being one of the twenty-four (well, twenty-eight, now) North Americans to die by cougar attack in recorded history sounded like it was right up my alley. Did I know that number because "death by wild animal" was on my cons list of moving to Forks? Yes.

* * *

The store that Jessica had chosen for our shopping spree did not quite succeed at being high-end, although I had to give it points for trying. The lighting was low, the mannequins were decked with jewelry, and the salesladies had big smiles and were overly-eager to please.

Angela headed straight for a section of very long dresses, while Jessica grabbed me by the hand and went through the racks like a whirlwind; by the time we had reached the fitting rooms at the back of the store, she had acquired three armfuls of dresses to try on. Before I was even sure what was going on, I was stationed in a chair outside her stall, ready to approve or veto her choices.

"What about this one?" she asked, appearing in the doorway.

Looking at the dress, I had absolutely no useful thoughts to contribute. "I'm not very good at this," I apologized.

"Don't worry! What you're looking at is color and fit," Jessica explained. "Does the color look good with my hair and skin? Is the length flattering? Does the waist make me look weirdly-shaped? Do you like the neckline?"

I had never really thought that much about clothes before. I just wore a lot of nondescript jeans and long-sleeved shirts—when I wasn't wearing pajamas. Trying to keep her advice in mind, I scrutinized the dress. "It… has a lot of sequins? And they're light-colored… I think you'd look better in something darker. But the length is good. Is any of that helpful?"

Jessica bounced over and wrapped her arms around me. "Very helpful! I'm glad you came."

As she disappeared back into the stall, I felt cheered by her welcoming positivity, even if I still wasn't sure why I was participating.

Thirteen dresses later, I still wasn't sure why I was participating, but I was definitely gaining an appreciation of what I _didn't_ like in prom dresses. Angela was curled up on a chair nearby, having picked her outfit—a red floor-length halter-top (my fashion vocabulary was improving) with sparkly flats to match—within five minutes. I sighed and checked my phone. The library was going to be closing in a little less than an hour and, if the pile of dresses that Jessica had yet to try on was any measure, we weren't even close to being done.

"Bored?" Angela asked sympathetically.

I grimaced. "No," I said, only somewhat untruthfully, "but the library has a used book sale that I wanted to check out."

"Oh, I hadn't heard," Angela said, checking her phone. "Does it close at 6?"

"Yeah."

"Jessica might take that long, so why don't you go ahead and get your books? I'll take over as fashion consultant."

"You wouldn't mind?" I hesitated, eager to go but not wanting to inconvenience Angela and Jessica.

"Bye, Bella!" Jessica yelled from the stall. "Have a nice walk!"

"Go on," Angela said. "We'll meet up at La Belle Italia? I'll text you the address."

"Thank you!"

* * *

The sun had just set, although with all the trees around all that could be seen was a faint glow through the lowest clouds. My printout informed me that it was a fifteen minute walk to the library and helpful streetlights illuminated the way.

The library was quiet when I entered. The librarian greeted me with a smile, which I returned cheerfully. I scanned the sale section, finding a tattered volume of local history, a historical fantasy that looked interesting, and two scifi novels, over the course of half an hour.

The librarian—a different one than the pleasant middle-aged woman who had greeted me the first time—informed me that the library was closing up, so I contented myself with my finds and settled up. I asked him for directions to the Italian place, a little tongue-tied (not that that was any different from most of my interactions with strangers) and he obliged, scribbling a list on the back of my receipt with a smile that was a little toothier than was strictly necessary.

I exited the library and took the turn that he had indicated. I found myself walking down a fairly large street bordered by residential areas. After a few blocks, the sidewalk on my side of the street disappeared, so I crossed to the roughly-beaten track on the other side. I hoped that nobody would run over me by accident, but there didn't seem to be much traffic. I kept walking… and walking… and walking. Maybe fifteen minutes later, the road turned into a highway, shrouded on both sides by overhanging trees. This couldn't be right, could it? I finally saw a street sign that was listed on the scribbled receipt, and I turned gratefully—according to my directions, I was nearly there.

Just as I passed the one working streetlight within view, my phone rang. I scrambled through my bag to pull it out, removing my pepper spray, a bag of snacks, and two books before I finally found it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Bella," Jessica said on the other end. "Are you okay? On your way? Should we come pick you up?"

"No, no," I hastened to reassure her, "I'm almost there! I just turned off of Highway 101."

"The _what_?" she asked. "Do you mean Lincoln Street?"

"Uh, no," I said, looking back what was _definitely_ Highway 101. "The librarian said—"

"Tell me exactly where you are right now and I'll come get you," she said, and it sounded like she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Well, I'm just off of Highway 101," I said. "Let me find a street sign and call you back."

"I'll go get my car," she said, and hung up.

I put the books, snacks, pepper spray and phone back into my bag and cursed myself for being an idiot—but really, who expects their friendly local librarian to lead them astray?—and started backtracking to the nearest street sign, but my path was suddenly blocked by a dark figure who stood just outside the singular street light's illumination. I couldn't make out any distinguishing features no matter how hard I strained to see in the darkness.

"Umm, can I help you?" I sounded shaky to myself, but maybe the person wouldn't notice.

"You seem lost, little lady," the stranger replied. His voice was strangely familiar but I couldn't place it.

"I-I'm fine, thank you." Now I was stuttering. My hand slipped into my bag and I gripped the comforting shape of my pepper spray.

"Not for long." There was a vicious glee underlying his words and he started edging toward the light.

"G-get back," I ordered, wishing my voice was a little less high-pitched.

He tilted his head, like he was thinking about it. "No."

"I have p-pepper spray," I threatened, brandishing my canister and desperately wishing (for the only time in my life) that I carried a gun instead.

"Oh my, ain't I frightened," he mocked, and I wilted. Of course he wasn't afraid of a small, unintimidating person like myself. Why would he be?

He took a step forward and I saw my chance: I sprayed him full in the face with the pepper spray, then launched myself past him in an attempt to get away.

"Where d'you think you're going?" he hissed, catching my arm as I sprinted past. I yelped as he spun me toward him, his grip so tight I was sure there would be bruises tomorrow. If there was a tomorrow. I whimpered as he drew me close, bracing myself for the worst. He rested his nose against my neck and… sniffed? I shuddered and tried to pull away but he was impossible strong. It felt like struggling against a wall. Displeased, he wrapped an arm around my throat and I choked.

"Let go of me," I snarled, the words contorted by my fight for air.

"I don't think so," he murmured in my ear. His grip tightened and suddenly it was all I could do to breathe, let alone talk.

"I think you should let her go." The new voice was familiar, but horribly out of place.

His head flew up and he stared past me. Something feral rumbled in his throat and I was even more frightened than I had been before, if that was possible.

"Back off." A second voice, with a gentle twang to it. Again, I was sure I'd heard it before.

"I saw her first," my captor sneered. "She's mine." He sounded so sure of himself that my heart sank. Was I going to die? It would kill Charlie if anything happened to me.

"Get lost," a third person ordered. His voice was lower, scarier sounding than the other two. The arms around me stiffened. "This is our land."

"Says who?" He sounded a little less certain of himself. I didn't dare hope.

"Says us," the first one spoke, and—impossible, it couldn't be—I recognized the voice of my Biology partner. Edward Cullen had come to my rescue again. "Now, drop her and get out before we take you apart."

_Wait, what_?! Sure, he could move quickly and he kept his head in a crisis, but threatening to take someone apart?!

"Hey, whoa," my captor began placating, and how could he be scared of a teenage boy? Well, three teenage boys—it was probably Jasper and Emmett with Edward. I hadn't seen him with any other friends. "I'm just hungry. Let me have this one and I'll be out of here in no time. How far does your territory go north?"

"No exceptions," Emmett (at least, it wasn't Edward and it wasn't Jasper) growled. "If you aren't out of the state by morning, we'll hunt you down."

"It's just one girl," he wheedled, turning sly. "You can't eat everyone in this state by yourselves."

"I'm not going to tell you again." Emmett's voice was soft, but no less scary. "Get lost, or else."

I was abruptly shoved forward. I fell to my hands and knees, sucking air through my battered throat. Behind me I could hear heavy steps racing away, back the direction we had come.

_What the hell?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Bella finds out about vampires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried hard to do this scene justice and I think I like the final result. If you have any opinions—good, bad, or neutral, please share them!

_What the hell?_

"Are you okay?" Edward was abruptly at my side, carefully not touching me. I was grateful that he was respecting my personal space.

"M-m-maybe." I was still focusing on just breathing. The terror was receding, leaving behind relief so intense it was nauseating.

"Can you stand up?" He offered a hand to support me. I ignored it, struggling to my feet by myself. I was shaky but upright as he rose gracefully to tower over me once more. Emmett and Jasper were nowhere to be seen, but it was dark enough that they could be ten feet away and I wouldn't have been able to pick them out.

"W-w-what are you d-doing here?" My heart was slowing down a little, but I was not even close to being over the situation.

Edward shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. "We were just… passing by, and we thought we saw something weird going on, so we stopped."

"Where's your car?" I demanded, seizing on a tiny detail to put off confronting everything for one more minute.

"It's right over there," he waved in the direction of the highway.

"You tried that on me before and it didn't work, what makes you think it will this time?" I snapped, aware that I was becoming irrationally angry, but somehow it helped. "What did Emmett mean when he said 'our land?' What did that guy mean about _eating people_?"

"Bella, none of that is what it sounded like." I recognized his tone from the car accident. This time I was sure that he was lying, and I wasn't going to let it go.

"The hell it wasn't," I snapped, my terror forgotten. "He talked like he knew you guys. _That man_ knew who you were! _What did he mean about eating people_?!"

"Bella," Edward said, sounding desperate now, "Bella, please calm down. You're in shock."

I yanked my phone out of my bag. "I'm calling the police."

Edward reached out a hand as if to stop me, and I realized how close we were standing. Then I remembered how _that guy_ , the one who had manhandled me like a sack of potatoes, had been afraid… and maybe I should be scared too. Edward must have read my expression because he pulled the hand back, palm out as if to indicate that I had nothing to fear. "Please don't do that, Bella," he said, and his voice sounded more sincere than I'd ever heard from him before. "We're on your side."

"How can that be possible when he talked about eating people like you'd just understand? And you answered him! I don't think I'm overreacting!" My phone was still in my hands; what were the odds that I could dial 911 before Edward could stop me? _No_ , I realized suddenly with my heart sinking to my stomach, _I have to call Jessica first_. _She might get here even without directions. She has to be safe_.

As if summoned, my phone began to ring. Edward met my gaze, grimaced, and then shrugged, looking defeated. "I'll give you answers if you tell Jessica you're safe, so she doesn't come looking for you and run into _him_."

I stared at him calculatingly. "We go to a public place and you tell me everything."

"Deal," he said, too quickly.

I answered the phone. "Hi, Jessica, sorry. I ran into Edward Cullen—" I met his gaze, but he didn't seem upset that I had let her know who I was with "—and started talking. I'm actually going to a thing with him? He promised me a ride back to Forks, too, so you and Angela don't have to worry about me."

"Oh!" She sounded surprised and relieved. "You have to tell me _everything_ tomorrow! Do you want us to hang around town to make sure you're okay? Because we can totally do that."

"No, no, that's okay," I hastily reassured her.

"We ate while we were waiting for you so if you're _sure_ you're good, we'll probably be leaving for Forks in a few minutes."

"Safe drive!"

"You too!"

We both hung up and then I turned to face Edward again, morbidly glad that no matter what else happened this evening Jessica and Angela wouldn't be involved. "Public place. Answers."

"I'll take you to my car and we'll drive to a restaurant," he promised.

"I have pepper spray," I threatened. He looked like he was hiding a smile, but gestured toward the highway. I gathered what dignity I had left and walked in the direction he had indicated.

True to his word, the silver car that I had seen him drive was parked on the verge. Jasper and Emmett stood next to it, arguing quietly.

Edward cleared his throat, loudly, and both of them looked up. Was I imagining it, or did Jasper look guilty?

"He got away," Emmett complained. "But I called Rosie—she and Carlisle are coming up and we'll have us a good hunt."

"What would Carlisle do?" Edward asked quietly, staring at Jasper.

Jasper frowned and turned away. Emmett made a face and followed him, the two quickly disappearing into the darkness. I was past caring about cryptic conversations, though. I was ready for some answers. Edward opened the side door for me and I sat down, gratefully leaning my head back. I belatedly realized that I was shaking and also very cold. Edward looked my way as he slid into the car, turned the heat all the way up, and then rolled down his window.

"Do you like Italian food?" he asked, pulling onto the highway in the direction that I had come from.

The question startled me and I laughed shakily. "Yes."

We sat in silence until Edward pulled smoothly into a parking space in front of La Belle Italia. He got out of the car and headed around to my side, but I had already opened the door and was climbing out. We headed into the restaurant, still silent. Edward asked for a quiet table and the server seated us in a dim corner of the restaurant, flirting rather more than was necessary. It would be silly to mind that, but I did. I ascribed it to a desire to get straight to the conversation and focused on ignoring her until she brought over two Cokes.

"Tell me what you know," Edward began, pushing one of the Cokes towards me. I sipped it eagerly, attempting to organize my thoughts into something coherent.

"The car crash," I said, trying to create a timeline, "it—you—you came out of nowhere. You moved too fast and—and then you lied about it. You _lied_ about it and you made me think I was crazy."

"Anything else?" Edward wasn't quite meeting my eyes.

"Someone—a friend—" I didn't want to drag Jacob's name into this "—told me that you were dangerous. He seemed really sure about being right."

Edward's expression sharpened, but he made no comment except for "Is that all?"

"Of course not!" I spluttered. "I was just sent to the middle of nowhere by a librarian, who followed me, grabbed me, shook off pepper spray like it was nothing, and _tried to eat me_. And then you guys just showed up out of nowhere, at just the right moment, and… and he ran. The scariest person—the _strongest_ person—I've ever met in my entire life ran away from three high schoolers."

"What do you think is going on?" he asked, sounding too patient.

 _Beautiful. Strong. Fast. People-eating._ The words flew through my head over and over, and I could only think of one explanation, as crazy as it sounded. "You're vampires," I blurted before I even knew what I was saying.

Edward's face changed, somehow, and—impossibly—I knew that I had scored a hit. "You've seen me in daylight," he said, and I heard the evasion.

Here was the one occasion that my familiarity with classic literature was useful. "Carmilla was fine in daylight," I argued.

"Carmilla was a fictional character."

"You haven't told me I'm wrong," I said, leaning in.

He picked up the other Coke, looked at it, and set it back down. "You don't want to know."

"I _do_ ," I insisted. "If you don't tell me, I'll find out another way."

Edward winced. "That would be… unwise."

"You promised me answers."

He met my gaze squarely across the table. "You'll be better off if I don't tell you. Most people don't really want to know that there's anything unbelievable in the world, even if they think that they do."

I took a deep breath and thought about it, doing my best to ignore the butterflies and cottonmouth that always struck me when I looked too closely at him. I considered my aspirations to be a journalist, my frustration with secrets and lies, my need for knowledge, and I came to a definite conclusion. "I can't do that."

Edward sighed and rubbed long fingers across the bridge of his nose. "I shouldn't be surprised."

I felt momentarily pleased that this boy, with golden—no, I corrected myself, they were black—eyes that looked like they could see straight through to my soul, was surprised by anything I might do, but the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come. "Tell me."

He grimaced. "You're right."

Somehow, this wasn't what I had been expecting. My stomach tied itself into a knot, but before I could say anything he continued.

"Vampires," he dropped his voice slightly, as if to avoid eavesdroppers, "exist. Maybe a few thousand."

"How?" I asked. It was the only word I could seem to form.

His mouth twisted, almost mockingly. "It depends on who you ask."

"How is it a secret?" I couldn't understand how something this big could be hidden.

"The laws surrounding secrecy are strictly enforced and those who break them are harshly punished."

"There are _laws_?" I understood, belatedly, that he was breaking those laws by telling me any of this. "Made by governments?"

His eyes shifted to the side. "Not human ones."

I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate and I made an effort to control my breathing. "What parts of the stories are true?"

"Wait," he said, looking in the direction of the kitchen. "I think your food is coming."

I frowned, seeing nothing, but before I could open my mouth the waitress appeared with my plate of mushroom ravioli. I picked at in in silence as she asked Edward if she could get him anything, refilled my Coke, and then disappeared again.

"We don't age." He looked into his glass like it contained the answer to some question he didn't know how to ask.

"You're immortal?" I shouldn't have been surprised, but the concept was foreign to my mind.

"We can perish," he corrected, and my eyebrows furrowed at his choice of words, "but not of old age."

"How old are you?" I asked, though I wasn't sure that I wanted to know the answer.

"Seventeen."

"No, I mean—"

"I was born in 1901," he said gently. "I died in 1918."

"Died?"

"Yes." His tone was still kind, but final.

"What—I mean, how do you— _do_ you eat people?"

"No… and yes." Edward finally looked up from his glass, and my stomach fluttered as we stared into each other's eyes. "My family doesn't. Some others don't. The rest… yes."

"What _do_ you eat?"

Edward made a vague gesture. "Overpopulated animals, troublesome predators. When animal blood gets too unbearable, blood bank surplus."

"Blood, then." I laughed, the sound strangled in my suddenly-tight throat. "I'm a vegetarian." It was all I could think of to say.

"I know," he said, his smile rueful. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Blood," I repeated. "He would have…" I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence as nausea and revulsion roiled. "I almost—"

"You didn't," he said quickly.

"But Waylon, and the hikers—was that him?" I pushed my plate away, no longer able to face food.

Edward grimaced. "Yes."

"I guess he's not really a librarian, then."

He let out a startled chuckle. "No, he's not. Most vampires don't stay in one place for too long, so it's difficult to have jobs."

"But you do? Stay in one place, I mean." I reached for my Coke but it was empty, though I hadn't remembered drinking it all. Edward, seeing my abbreviated action, pushed his undrunk glass toward me and I sipped thankfully.

"We do."

"Why?"

"Carlisle thinks we can make the world a better place, a little bit at a time." He smiled wistfully and looked at his hands, folded on top of the table. "The rest of us would like to believe him."

I reached across the table impulsively, touching his cold hands. "Maybe you can." Like Renee, I always wanted to believe the best of people. As our eyes met my fear and confusion disappeared, replaced by a calm certainty that everything was going to work out, somehow. For the first time in my life, I didn't need lists to be sure of what I was doing.

The moment evaporated as the waitress reappeared to ask if we wanted dessert and we hastily separated. Edward asked for the check and paid with a single bill when it arrived a moment later, handing it to the waitress with a smile that made her blush. He didn't seem to notice, though; his attention was focused on me. A part of me was flattered, but the rest recognized that he was waiting to see if I was about to scream or run.

I wasn't. As we made our way back to his car, my mind was racing, turning over the possibilities of what I had just discovered. I was sure of one thing: I wasn't about to leave this revelation unexplored.


	13. Interlude: Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Portions of the last couple of chapters from Edward's point of view, as well as the ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note for the thoughts of a very evil vampire; skip the italicized section at the bottom of the first section if this might bother you. If you have any thoughts, please share them!

Friday night meant that it was finally time for a proper hunt. We had taken turns over the last few nights to patrol the area around Forks, but it was clear that preventative measures weren't sufficient. On Thursday we held a family meeting to plan everything out: Alice and Esme would work the farmer's market to keep up appearances. Carlisle (who had negotiated for two days off in a row) and Rosalie would stick close to Forks to keep an eye out on the locals. Jasper, Emmett, and I would follow the nomad's trail until we caught up with him.

By our reckoning, he was headed toward Port Angeles, so we began there, ditching the car on 101 just outside the city limits. A cursory search showed that he'd looped around and come in from the east only an hour or two before us. All seemed well, until we passed the library and were assaulted by the sharp tang of fresh blood.

"He was here," Emmett said darkly. Jasper nodded, holding his breath with a pained expression.

"Wait outside," I ordered, already pushing through the unlocked front doors. I followed the scent to the back of the library, where a woman's body sprawled on the floor. She had been dead for about ten minutes—killed by a powerful blow to the back of the head. I closed her eyes, furious that we had come too late.

"He's not hunting for food," I said after rejoining my brothers. "He didn't touch her."

"He'd have to be a newborn to be starving so soon," Jasper agreed. "He's not thirsty, he's bored."

Emmett laughed, an incongruously bright sound after the death I'd just seen. "We can fix that."

"Let's be quick about it," I growled. We jogged a little faster than was strictly advisable, but there were no cars coming along the road to see us.

Only a moment or two later, I held up a hand. "Stop." Emmett and Jasper froze, trusting me.

A frightened girl under a streetlight—wantwantwantwant—she's going to scream—I bet she'll be pretty when she begs—haven't had fun in a while—should I let her think she can run? no—what Vicky doesn't know won't hurt her—want—mmmmm—

"Run," I snarled, white-hot fury shooting up my spine. We covered the last half mile in under thirty seconds, arriving just in time to see Bella Swan facing certain death for the second time in two weeks—and in the split second before I spoke, I realized that if she died because I couldn't save her, I would never forgive myself.

I could hear Jasper and Emmett's conversation from where I walked, protectively close to the conspicuously fragile girl. Though Jasper's thoughts were still laced with anger that I hadn't warned them of who the nomad's victim was before she saw us, his arguments sounded calm and rational. One human life, which should have already ended, in trade for the safety and security of our entire family. The safety and security of Alice.

Emmett was thinking of Rosalie's unflinching drive for justice, and how she would react if he told her he'd protected her by sacrificing an innocent, but all he said out loud was that tracking down the nomad was more important than dealing with Bella. As much as he loved to fight, Emmett wasn't the type to debate.

I cleared my throat as we came into view, intending to stop that line of conversation before Bella came within earshot. Jasper flashed a glare at me but had the grace to look guilty when he faced Bella.

"He got away," Emmett said, in a tone that suggested he was personally affronted. "But I called Rosie—she and Carlisle are coming up and we'll have us a good hunt."

"What would Carlisle do?" I asked, trying to catch Jasper's eye. He refused to look at me, but I could see the nearly-imperceptible flinch as he pictured Carlisle's kind face and the word that was so dear to him: Better. Carlisle would do better.

He walked away, though. Emmett looked apologetic but turned to follow him, headed back up the road they had driven down.

* * *

 

She listened and accepted the truth far more calmly than I would have expected. Of course, it probably helped that she wasn't a newborn, half-crazed with thirst and overwhelmed with a sensory and processing system that was a thousand times more detailed than anything she was used to. Thank God for small mercies, at least.

I studied her covertly as we walked back out to the car, wondering what she was thinking about. Her eyes were intently focused on nothing and she was trying not to chew on her lip. I hoped that she would succeed—being in a car with her, even with the window rolled down, had been an exquisite torment. If she bled, even accidentally, Jasper's proposed solution might happen after all.

We started the hour-long drive to Forks in silence, but eventually the not-knowing was too much for me. "What are you thinking?"

She laughed again, the sound equally as startling and charming as it had been before. "How did you find me?"

"We were already hunting him. We just happened to be very close when he caught up with you."

"And before? With the van—how did you get there so fast?"

I smiled ruefully. "We can move very fast when we must."

Her eyes widened. "So I was right?"

"You were right," I acknowledged.

Instead of brightening, her face turned serious and she began fidgeting with her fingers. "That's twice you've saved my life. I should say thank you."

"I'd rather you didn't," I said, hastily.

She looked like she was hiding a smile. "Then I won't." There was another moment of silence, then: "What happened to the librarian?"

I thought about lying to spare her the truth, but decided against it. "She didn't make it."

Something flashed in her eyes. "So that vampire… he killed five people and he just gets away with it?"

"We can't exactly hand him over to the authorities," I said, in what I hoped was a steady and convincing voice.

"Maybe not, but can't you do something about it?" Her tone was demanding.

I gripped the steering wheel. "We're trying."

"Emmett said that he got away."

"We'll try harder."

"But you told him that if he got out of the state—"

"We can't chase him to the ends of the earth." I was aware that my tone was getting a little heated, and I fought to calm down. I couldn't afford to be angry around the delectable Bella Swan.

"Why not?"

I almost spluttered. "To begin with, other covens have territories that we have to avoid. Vampire turf wars are… ugly."

"So he can be there but you can't?"

"One lone nomad is less threatening than an entire coven bent on vigilante justice."

"What about the vampire governments?"

"Killing people isn't something that they care about."

She looked like I'd struck her. "Oh."

I felt like kicking myself. "Most vampires don't see humans as anything other than food. Maybe as recruits. Not as people."

Her voice was very small. "But you do?"

"Most of us made the choice to become vampires. And we all agree that if we had that choice again, we'd choose differently."

"You chose?"

"Carlisle would never turn anyone who hadn't."

"Why?"

I felt frustrated again. "Why? Because he cares about bodily autonomy? Because he isn't a monster? Because you can't make that kind of choice for someone else?"

"I meant," she said, her cheeks red and eyes angry, "why did you choose?"

"We were dying," I replied bluntly. "People who are dying don't make smart choices."

"What were you dying of?"

"Spanish flu."

"Oh."

Silence reigned for a full half hour. I wanted—needed—to get inside her head (to protect my family, I told myself, though a small and selfish part of me was honestly intrigued), but I couldn't bring myself to ask again.

"Why are the myths wrong about so much?" she asked, finally.

"Why would they be right about anything?" I countered.

She made a pensive face. "I assume that at least some of it is influenced by real encounters with vampires."

"Probably."

"So it would be strange if none of it were right. And then… humans embellish, don't we?"

"All the time." I had watched with amusement as Orson Welles' War of the Worlds had been released and the newspapers had drummed up reports of mass panic, creating a legend that still existed despite little standing in reality. "But the vampire government… they meddle, sometimes. Derail any projects that might be too accurate, use back channels to sponsor popular media that offers distracting mythos, that sort of thing."

"Where do you hide a needle?" she asked, thoughtfully.

"Where?" I asked, though the question was probably rhetorical.

"In a sewing kit," she answered, lips quirking slightly upward. "It's unlikely that you'll be able to find that particular needle again."

I hadn't thought about it quite that way. "That's insightful."

She blushed, and the world vanished for a moment as I stared at the pooling of blood beneath her cheeks. It would be so, so easy. She'd die before she had time to be afraid, and I could—

No. I turned away abruptly and sucked in cool night air from the open window. Never again. I couldn't live with that version of myself.

"You're angry," she said, voice small again. "Did I..?"

"It's not you," I hastened to reassure her. "At least, it's nothing that you're doing." Looking back at her sweet, trusting face, I found the resolve I needed.

As I pulled up to the Swans' home, Bella started. "We're here already?"

"I drive fast." Though tonight, I'd actually driven slower than usual; I would survive an unexpected car accident, but my passenger might not, and I couldn't risk that. Bella Swan would die one day, but it wouldn't be because of anything I had or hadn't done.

"I have more questions," she said, seeming hesitant to leave the car.

"I'll answer them," I promised. "But this weekend is… booked."

"Monday," she insisted.

"Monday," I agreed.

She nodded decisively and let herself out of the car. I watched the front door close behind her—she was home, safe, where she belonged. I wasn't going to let anything change that.


	14. Accommodation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella isn't done investigating vampires, and—despite the difficulties inherent in discussing vampires with a human—Edward is enjoying himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback, it means a lot! Hopefully this chapter keeps things moving forward (in every area). Google "accommodation and assimilation" if you want to read some interesting information about how humans process information, and please leave a comment if you like or dislike anything in this chapter or have anything else to say!

On Friday night, I was committed to helping the Cullens keep their secrets and coexist with the human world. When I woke up on Saturday morning after a fitful night of blood and mayhem, I thought that I should gather as much information and proof as I could and approach the nearest FBI office, which the internet told me was in Paulsbo. I wrote and rewrote a speech in my head, trying to frame the issue in a way that didn't make me sound completely unhinged—but who would believe me? I didn't entirely believe myself. I didn't go to the farmer's market, too afraid to run into any of Edward's family—I could live on pasta and frozen veggies for a few weeks, if the other option was fraternizing with vampires.

I spent Saturday afternoon and evening coming up with ways to convince Charlie to move anywhere else (my preference was Alaska) in the next twenty-four hours. That lasted until I remembered what Edward had said about other covens. I briefly considered forging a transcript to get into a Scandinavian university, but ultimately acknowledged that I had no way of doing that.

By Sunday afternoon I was considering how possible it would be to just ignore the existence of the Cullens for the rest of my time in Forks. Transfer out of Biology for the year, studiously avoid eye contact or interaction, stay away from the hospital, never go into town again. That reminded me of Jacob and how he'd warned me about the Cullens. I almost called to apologize for doubting him, but the problem was that I didn't know how much he actually knew, and I couldn't risk telling him more than he should know. Besides, it wasn't like he'd reached out to apologize for being rude. I knew that was petty of me, but I was too busy to care.

When I woke up on Monday morning, I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do. I went through my morning routine in a daze, still trying to reconcile everything I had ever known with this new information. By the time I made it to school, I still wasn't sure what I wanted to ask first, let alone how to live in a world that also included vampires.

I suffered through my morning classes, turning in all the homework that I'd done between soul-searching and panicking and half-listening to the teachers as they discussed upcoming assignments and topics of learning. I spent half of Gov wondering what vampire governments looked like and how they functioned and most of Spanish thinking about the traditional weaknesses that vampires were supposed to have. By the time I was headed toward the cafeteria, I had devised a rudimentary plan to test Edward—I didn't entirely trust him to be honest about weaknesses, but after my unfriendly encounter on Friday I definitely wanted to know if there were any ways that I could protect myself.

"Bella!"

Startled out of my train of thought, I looked over my shoulder to see Jessica hurrying to catch up with me. "Hey."

"You _have_ to tell me about Friday night," she said, seeming ready to burst with curiosity. "What did you do? What was it like?"

I blinked, taken aback. I hadn't thought of what I was going to tell Jessica. "Um, I… well, I…"

"C'mon!" she squealed, dragging me into the cafeteria. "How did it go? Was it a _date_?"

"No, no!" I protested. "It wasn't a date. It was fine. He had tickets to see _The Merchant of Venice_ and his, um, brother, um, bailed on him." It was the least convincing lie I'd ever told, but Jessica wasn't looking for deception.

"Ooh! Isn't that Shakespeare? Romantic."

"Not really." I grimaced as I stacked a veggie wrap onto my plate. "It's about a Jewish moneylender who's been cast out of his community but is also still persecuted by the Christian population of Venice. Oh, and he wants to cut a pound of flesh off another guy."

Jessica held her hands up. "Okay, I take it back. But did you have fun?"

"It was… interesting," I said, adding an apple.

"Bella, you're the most laid-back person I know," she complained with a smile. "If _anyone_ else had been on a date with Edward Cullen—"

"It wasn't a date!" I interrupted, a little too quickly. "We just talked."

"Did you _want_ it to be a date?" Jessica asked as we walked to our regular table.

I thought about it and—to my shame—found myself blushing. "Um, I'm not really… into… dating."

"That's not a no," she pointed out, but dropped the subject as we sat down.

* * *

I wasn't sure how to pay attention to Biology while sitting only inches away from someone who was a vampire with answers to so many questions that I hadn't figured out how to ask yet. Fortunately Mr. Banner announced that we would be watching a movie and—as irresponsible as it was—I gratefully took the opportunity to tune out.

As we filed out of the classroom, I caught Edward's gaze (a risky proposition, given my previous reactions to making eye contact with him). "When?"

"After school," he said. "I'll meet you at your car."

I nodded, my mouth dry as I headed toward Gym, which—I hoped—would either last a century or be over in the blink of an eye.

Fifty-five minutes (and one embarrassing basketball game) later, I was limping out to my truck, which I'd parked on the far side of the school. The lot was empty (thanks to my long trip through the locker room and out of the school) and Edward was nowhere in sight, which was either relieving or concerning. I slung my bags through the door and hauled myself in the driver's seat, wondering how long I should wait for him before driving away.

I didn't have to wonder for long; the silver Volvo he always drove pulled up smoothly beside my truck and he emerged from the back. Surprised, I looked down into the car, which was being driven by Rosalie. She held my gaze coolly for a moment, then looked away. I felt decidedly snubbed.

Edward tapped the passenger window and I leaned over and unlocked the door. He climbed smoothly in as the Volvo pulled away.

We sat in awkward silence for a moment, then he looked over at me, brow furrowed. "You have more questions?"

"Yeah, I do. But would you mind—could we do this at my house?"

He looked uncertain. "I suppose. Why?"

"I didn't eat much at lunch and I'm hungry," I said. It was part of the truth; I'd picked at my veggie wrap, too busy thinking to eat.

He blinked, seeming surprised. "Oh. Of course. But couldn't I take you out to a restaurant?"

I was definitely blushing. "That would look too much like a date." Forks was a very small town, after all.

"Oh. Of course."

"Great." As I started the truck and began to pull out of the parking lot, I looked over at him, determined not to waste any of our time together.

As we drove, I asked questions like "what about the vampire governments?" and he described the great covens around the world that enforced a single rule: stay secret. The most powerful coven, I learned, were called "The Volturi." It sounded suitably ominous for a millennia-old group of powerful vampires. When I asked what kind of things went into keeping secret, he hedged for a minute before listing creators' responsibility for their creations, inconspicuous consumption, keeping out of the sunlight, a ban on vampire wars, and age limits.

"So you _do_ have to keep out of the sunlight?" I felt hopeful about my proposed experiments.

"It makes us more conspicuous than we're supposed to be."

"Oh." I tried to remember the other things he had said. "How are vampires created?"

He looked at me like he wasn't sure I was ready to hear the answer. "If you've been… attacked… by a vampire, you might become one. But only a small percentage do; most just die."

"But you said that Carlisle turned you on purpose?"

"Yes, that's the other way. But it's hard to stop once you've started, so there's no guarantee there, either." He thought I wasn't looking and his golden eyes softened. "Carlisle is the strongest man I know."

I shivered and filed the information away. "What about the vampire wars? If the… Volturi—" I pronounced the unfamiliar word carefully "—don't care about who dies, why are those illegal?"

"They draw attention," he said, looking into the distance. "The people who wage them… they're indiscriminate about collateral damage. And vampire armies are built of newborns, who are incredibly strong, but undisciplined and violent. The death tolls become untenably high."

I shuddered, but before I could ask another question the empty driveway loomed ahead. I parked, climbed out with my bag, and unlocked the front door.

Edward came in behind me and I made a mental checkmark on the list of possible vampiric attributes that I was investigating. _He can come in without being invited_.

I slung my bag over a kitchen chair and started the process of making pasta, being sure to put lots of garlic in the butter-and-broccoli sauce. He didn't so much as twitch. _Garlic doesn't seem to bother him at all_. As I was putting the pasta back in the cupboard I let the box fall, scattering a handful of pasta curls across the floor. I apologized and swept them up when he didn't immediately start obsessively counting them. _Okay, that one was a long shot._

"If vampires are real, is there anything else out there?" I asked, stirring the sauce. I looked over at where Edward was standing and was momentarily struck by the image of this boy—almost too perfect to exist—casually leaning against my kitchen table.

"Werewolves."

I burst out laughing. Vampires might be explainable by science—some kind of parasitic or symbiotic virus, perpetuating through saliva-to-blood contact—but the idea of something that transformed from man to animal was too much for me. "You're shitting me."

He made a face. "No. They're rare and hunted; in beast form, they have no control or higher reason. They're dangerous to themselves and everyone else."

I stared at him, almost forgetting about the meal I was assembling. "No way."

"You just found out that vampires are real and you're prepared to deny the existence of anything else?" He sounded amused, and I paused to reconsider.

"I guess not." I stirred the pasta sauce before it burned, strained the pasta, and combined the two. "Do you want any?" I thought about what I had said just after I spoke and blushed. "I mean—um."

He smiled, kindly. "It smells delicious," he said, "but no. Eating human food is an exercise in frustration at the best."

"Of course." I scooped a bowlful and started eating. Although I had eaten a veggie wrap at lunch, I was oddly hungry. He looked like he was going to say something, but then he didn't. I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You look like you're enjoying that," he said, sounding a little wistful. "I… miss food, sometimes."

Somehow, as irrational as it probably was, that comment humanized him even more than saying that he hoped to be good. I stopped seeing him as a maybe-monstrous Adonis and saw him as a teenager whose life had been changed beyond recognition by forces outside of his control. "What else do you miss?"

"Sleep," he answered immediately. "Having all the time in the world is blissful for a decade, but then you miss being able to stop, even if only for a few hours."

I thought about never being able to sleep again, and couldn't quite hide the horror on my face. "How do you rest? Recharge? Isn't sleep an important part of processing and storing information?"

"Physically, we have no need for it," he said, as I scarfed down the last of my pasta. "Our brains move faster than we do."

"Sounds exhausting," I said, rinsing my bowl out in the sink. I washed the fork and dried it off. "The silverware drawer is right next to you—could you?"

He took the fork and put it away solemnly and I ticked another checkmark. _Those are real silver, and he seems fine._ That left only two things on my list; holy symbols, and fire. I didn't have the former and it would be both obvious and rude to try and set him on fire, so I had to be done.

"I noticed," he said, suddenly, "but I didn't want to be rude. We don't have most of the traditional weaknesses."

"Most?" I said, blushing furiously over being caught.

"If you surprise a vampire with fire, you might get the upper hand. We're also vulnerable to other vampires and werewolves. Other than that…" he shrugged. "Maybe direct-energy weapons, if they ever become popular."

"Sorry." I didn't want to admit out loud that I hadn't trusted him to be forthcoming.

"Don't be," he said. "I'm impressed that you fit so many tests into such a short period of time."

I was still blushing. "I, um, thank you."

He smiled and looked down. "You're welcome."

I wanted to continue the conversation, but I couldn't think of what to say. I didn't have any more immediate questions about vampires, but teenager-y questions like "do you want to do homework together?" didn't seem appropriate either—and it wasn't like I'd ever been good at those to begin with.

He solved my dilemma for me by looking toward the door. "I think your dad will be home soon. Do you want me to stay and meet him, or should I leave?"

I was immediately flustered. Charlie liked the Cullens, but I didn't know how he'd react to an unexpected boy in the kitchen. And how could I keep the secret about vampires with both of them in the same room? "You should probably go," I decided. "Do you need a ride home?"

"No, no, I'll walk," he said, and I realized that I had no idea where he lived. It could be the next street over, for all I knew. "If you have more questions, perhaps you would sit with me at lunch tomorrow?"

It was an oddly formal request, and I blushed again. "I—I don't think Rosalie likes me very much."

He flashed a grin. "With me, not with Rosalie."

"Oh! Then, maybe."

"I'll see you at school," he said, breezily, before letting himself out the front door.

I stood in the kitchen, hands over my face, trying not to smile like an idiot. _What's wrong with you?_ I scolded myself. _You should still be frightened. The FBI should be looking pretty good to you right about now_.

Somehow, though, I couldn't bring myself to believe that Edward Cullen would hurt me. He seemed too sincere—too earnest. There might be danger in the world, but he wasn't it.

My thoughts were interrupted by the door. I whirled to see Charlie, looking glum.

"Hi, dad, you're home early."

"We lost the trail," he said, hanging up his coat wearily. "Ranger said it'll be a miracle if we pick it up again. Thought I'd come home and get ready for the assembly tomorrow."

"Do you want a focus group?" I asked, crossing my fingers behind my back and hoping that he'd say no.

"No, Bells, I'll do all right on my own. You hungry?"

"I ate already."

"I'll order takeout, then." He slumped onto the couch, looking old beyond his years. I battled the urge to go over and hug him.

"I'll be in my room," I said, and fled upstairs.

I vowed to be responsible for the rest of the evening. I cleaned the bathroom, and did laundry, both of which should have happened over the weekend but hadn't due to my preoccupation. I did my homework (even the Trig) and tried to keep my mind off of vampires. By the time I was finished with my Biology textbook I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open.

 _I hope I think of more questions before lunch tomorrow_ , I thought, just before my head hit the pillow.


End file.
